


1,000 Bad Drawings

by rextyle



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, don't actually read if you want complete shit, dump of unfinished fics and prompts, just an every day unfinished fic dump, scrap fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rextyle/pseuds/rextyle
Summary: The big man himself, Alex Hirsch, once gave some advice that I love. He retold a story of his Gandolf-esque animation teacher telling him everyone has 1,000 bad drawings in them that they need to get out before they can really be good. Following that line of thought, here are my 1,000 fics. All unfinished. Some maybe to be picked up later. Some quite bad. All for the sake of practice.Summaries in order: Dark fantasy DipFord -  Rick and Morty/Gravity Falls (Dipper and Ford into the multiverse + a heavy dose of Bill) - Multiverse and reality collide, fantasy/scfi - Dipper freezes to death - Dipper binds Bill/into the multiverse - Silly fanfic on Conspiratheory/previous fic - Bill taking over Dipper's mind/schemes - more?
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines, Dipper Pines/Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Dipper Pines
Kudos: 11





	1. Never say Never

**Author's Note:**

> All of these are an unfinished mess. Mostly this is just for me to keep track of all these wayward fics and plop them down somewhere secure for later cringing and or perusal. Some I'm desperate to actually dig into later on and run with. Some are just...well, part of my 1,000 bad fic challenge to myself. Gotta write and write, my friends. Write and write. Even if it's just random fics.
> 
> Each chapter is an entirely different fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve years have passed since Ford took Dipper under his wing to be his apprentice, and a _lot_ had happened. What had begun as an unstoppable nerd-duo taking on every mystery and impossibility ends out dark, leaving Gravity Falls clashed in between the multiverse, nightmare realms, and an extra heaping pile of weirdness. Trying to survive and understand their world, while becoming ever closer, Dipper and Ford take the challenges on together and try to unravel mysterious truths while all the while Dipper begins to be hunted by strange, nightmarish creatures of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Relationships:** DipFord  
>  **Warnings:** Some gore mentions, otherwise no
> 
> So this is eventually planned as, down the line of it, a DipFord fic. Except Dipper’s like 26 and Ford’s basically de-aged to around mid-forties? All within the plot-related nonsense. Anyhow. This here is just an old fashioned mentor/apprentice...action...mystery...scfi-fantasy kinda dark style thing going down here. With...magical nonsense and...kinda end times but not really deals going about. Oh right, and I live in another country atm, so have...no way to access the 3rd Journal. A lot of things are just pulled from my butt. Whoo!

It was difficult to focus. Dipper chewed the butt of his pen unconsciously, eyes distant and blank. His mind was elsewhere. His thoughts otherwise preoccupied. Of course they were. These days, they practically always were. These days, the world had gone on fire, him still grasping at the fleeting straws that had yet to burn passed him.

He glanced down listlessly, flipping aimlessly through the large book in his hand. Dull, white pages flashed by, symbols and ideas, notes and odd sketches. Pictures. He brushed against an open page, a smudge of ink casting from his finger to the parchment and mentally cursed himself. Crap. Ford always told him to be careful. But he’d never been as analytical and exact as his uncle. Not quite as perfect and clear when jotting things down.

It had been two years to this day that he’d tried the impossible. That he’d done something unforgivable. Well. A  _ second  _ absolutely unforgivable thing, in his lifetime. Both damning, but this one...this one so much more so in the impact. The weight of it affecting everything.

With lightning flashing outside, a storm raging, a slew of spellbooks and incantations at his hand, he’d tried something utterly stupid. And in it they’d lost everything. 

A familiar crash of thunder gave course outside, rocking the house to its frame. Not too unlike that similar day so far from his reach. But the Mystery Shack was solid and durable, hearty against these sorts of attacks. It had been built that way, practically what felt like a century ago. Dipper stared down at his work, mind still stark still and cold. In his mind’s eye he could practically see his younger self, clawing at the cold ground, blood pooling dark, thick, running like ink onto cement ground; eyes cast in a desperate, frantic hope toward a glowing circle before him. “Come on...come on,  _ please _ .” He’d whispered, desperation filling every note to the brim. Gasping, choking, shrieking, “ **_PLEASE--_ ** !!” 

“Mason,  _ Mason _ .” A familiar voice called, breaking him from himself as footsteps stumbled down the stairs in a series of loud, far too rapid ‘clunks’. Uncle Ford popped in from the arcway, falling against the frame, brown hair framing his chiseled face, eyes serious but alert. One jagged scar went all the way from one side of his face to another, crossing an eye shielded these days by a black patch. He held himself there, expression grim and pale, surveying the other and drawing suddenly silent at Dipper’s lone hunched form. The other was still the only one, aside from his parents, who had ever used that name.

“...They’re coming again this way. I need your help, my boy.” Even in the urgency, there held a very gentle note to it. One of understanding in his gaze. And a soft comprehension. 

Honestly. Ford had been far too kind since that day. Far too forgiving. But there’d also been this solid, heavy stretched tension between them. Back then a bracing hand at his shoulder, a solemn look that weighed the heavy guilt and naked grief that had surrounded them both. As if his mentor could hold the universe against those broad, heavy shoulders. He’d looked down. And the harsh understanding of that look, the sheer certainty and...sheer, unmovable understanding had shattered him at the time. The disappointment...The grief.

_ “Looks like you ended out...a little too much like me in the end, Mason. Didn’t you?” _

Dipper quickly got to his feet. The chair he’d been fidgeting at clattered to the floor and he moved swiftly and without question after his uncle toward the open, stone sprawling staircase; spread now only with old candles, wax spilling from the crevices and inscriptions along its walls. Long ago they’d had to switch to this method versus the old elevator-carriage downward, not only due to the shortage of power these days, but to other magical factors they’d needed to take into precaution.

He sped after, footsteps echoing as he chased the quick flap of his uncle’s coat, sprinting into the main living room of the Shack, heart deafening on cold in his chest. A rattling came against the door, spread full with numerous locks and bolts, symbols and every trap they’d put up imaginable. Dipper’s eyes took against it, and he flew to a lever nearby. Ford galloped, sparing a hand to help him leap clean over the kitchen table before settling at another lever across the house. And that’s when it really started. At first just the silence of the raging storm. And then a silent creeping; shadows just at the edges of the raging storm lit windows. Soft, crawling whispers. A subtle, indefinable song. A slight chingling, as if a haunting tone of bell chimes, barely sounding, ringing gently against the storm creeping against the room.

Ford took a breath. “Okay. One. Two.  _ Three _ . NOW, MASON!” The cry set him off, and he pulled; hearing the clunk and chink of mechanics as the other older man wrenched his side as well. Gears groaned and cried out and with another vicious clash of thunder, a great blue light sprung up across the windows, filtering in like ghost light to paint the dark halls and rooms. The storm abruptly muffled under its glow. The whispering and tunes halted.

He glanced fleetingly toward the kitchen, letting out a heavy breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and dropping the lever, slouching against the door. Jesus christ. That had really been a close one. And it wasn’t long before his uncle reappeared, disheveled and clearly tired, but smiling softly, seeming in pretty good spirits all the same.

“Just in time.” He indicated to one of the few watches latched onto his wrist, holding it up for his apprentice to see. “A few more minutes, we’d be toast. Good job, kid.”

Toast. Yeah...just what else was new? All the same, he had to offer a slight smile in return, feeling just as tired as his mentor looked. They pretty much always had to be on guard these days, but lately, these attacks really were something else. “These attacks...they’re really getting more frequent, huh.” He observed wearily, glancing back at the doorway. And they had. The current entities that had come to visit every now and then were more on the unknown side compared to the usual chaos of every day. The first attack coming swift and sudden, not on a night unlike this one, gentle whispers and shifting shadows squirming just outside the light of the house. It was lucky the two were so prepared for the impossible and that they had so many contingencies in place. The old house they resided in was practically a fortress for magical attack by now.

Ford’s look hinted, growing harder with concern, glancing off toward the rain sheeted windows into the glowing shield outside as he studied it, clearly speculating. It was something he was utterly familiar with in regards to his mentor and could practically read every gear moving in those studious, collected eyes. He’d spent years studying them, following into step after them.

“Yes...Yes, they have. I just wish I could understand what these creatures  _ wanted _ or…” He hesitated, giving a slightly frustrated hiss from between his teeth, “What they even  _ looked  _ like.”

He almost had to smile at that. Almost. One thing the two had in common - that insatiable curiosity. Always looking for the new answer, the new riddle, solving the new mystery. The new adventure to catalogue. Dipper knew like the back of his hand how much his uncle was itching to get his hands on this particular slew of creatures. If they hadn’t been clearly aggressive upon their first attack and tried to rip him into a kind of swarm of darkness, Dipper was positive they two of them would’ve been stuck neck deep in observation and study; him with a pen and paper and his uncle gushing excitedly of every detail for him to scribble down. It wasn’t uncommon for them to get into all heaps of trouble in researching the land and, thank god, Dipper generally having a more reasonable head to pull them out of anything too dangerous.

“Well…” His uncle sighed. “I guess that’s that. This will do fine until morning. Guess we should probably get some sleep.” He glanced Dipper’s way, and suddenly an edge of concern settled there. He seemed to consider the other for a long moment, before he broke into a soft grin. “...But. On second thought. What do you say we break out that old spam I’ve been keeping in the storage for the last few months? Seems like a good night to celebrate.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. His other uncle, grunkle Stan had once stowed away around a thousand or so cans of instant-meat and spam in boxes and crates in the storage rooms which, frankly, had come in handy over the years. He felt disheveled and tired and aching with the need for sleep. And yet, the idea of just hanging out with uncle Ford sounded really, really good right now, even in the lateness of the night and left over adrenaline. 

“Yeah, sure. That...that actually sounds pretty great, uncle Ford.” He agreed, to which in a very familiar fashion the other ruffled at his hair with his large hand, grinning gently, striking in him a deep, familiar chord, before maneuvering said hand to begin guiding him off toward the kitchen.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I came into contact with part robot reptiles, Mason? A whole  _ species  _ of alligator people warring against real, authentic machines…” The stories started off again, spilling into warring tales of the vast, bizarre layers of the multiverse. Dipper always ate it up. It never got old to him, not even all these years later at age 25, always almost feeling like the very first time he’d arrived at Gravity Falls and opened up that journal to spill over its contents. As he made the coffee in a tin can and an old gaslit flame, Ford had begun opening up two cans of spam while retelling a particular jarring part with a blue haired war buddy he used to know. Honestly, it was the perfect go to meal of the pair on a good night. They practically ran on caffeine, multiverse war stories and old bunker stored canned goods. 

All the while the shield surrounding the shack remained as still and reliable as ever, a slithering series of shadows retreating, sinking like running oil back into the night, their hisses and multitude of eyes blinking, dying into the darkness, rain, thunder and crashes of lightning. One particular shattering roar cracked furiously into the sky, the rain almost pausing, hushed in the awe of it, and, some miles away, in the deepest parts of the woods, a statue lying in a disheveled heap beneath the raging chaos, arm reached out in the moss and dirt, struck a crack to run through it in time with the furious clap against the sky; staring one-eyed into the open night.

* * *

It took a long time for Dipper to come to himself the next day. Mornings were never something he did very well. He was more a stay up late...or, well, all the time kind of guy. The boy groaned, tossing off the blanket in the prying rays of sun, the aches and pains from the previous day rushing back as he blinked weakly into the familiar mess of the room. Some papers spread out here. Some half made inventions lying about there. Pens and magical gizmos and crystals sorted haphazardly in boxes and otherwise shoved up against shelves, string tying together some map of theories against boards posted against the wall littering about.

The usual.

There was always something sort of comforting, he guessed, in a room filled with his own personal chaos. The boy yawned, stretching his arm out wide and peered dazedly around the room, trying to balance himself. 

He caught clear sight of the window and the piercing sun. The shield was down by now it looked like, but then they never tended to get anything too damning with the sun out. Gravity Falls weirdness, while not exclusive, definitely came to life in the later hours. It took a bit of time to hoist himself disheveled to his feet and feel around half consciously for a metallic sensation that finally bumped rudely against his fingers. He gave out a short curse, hissing and drawing his fingers to his mouth, glaring down at the stupid, offensive thing.

“Man. Sometimes it’s almost like you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” He muttered to the thing, nudging it with a foot. But after a moment he sighed to himself, scratching at the back of his neck. Obviously, it wasn’t true. MckGucket had actually done a pretty much amazing job on it. 

He knelt down carefully to carpeted flooring, weighing it in one hand and turning it over. His eyes laid over it, the familiarity of it, tracing an edge carefully with his thumb. A strike of something, a memory, a ripping scream in the clash of rain tearing out ebbed into his view. Before, drawing himself to the present, and being careful of the short sleeve of his shirt, he took hold of the metallic arm and cautiously forced it into place against the conjoining metallic piece welded through to his shoulder. He screwed up his eyes and let out a low, tense sound of pain, the arm “clunking” into place as the old, familiar feeling of it flooded over him, rushing like hot electricity all through his body, pain flooding in a jarring flash. “Ugh. Never gonna get used to that.” He whispered, voice strained, to no one in particular, opening one eye to observe as he carefully opened and closed each metallic finger. Alright. Looked good enough. And, still flexing and feeling out the metallic piece, he started back to his feet and turned to his room, now using both arms to stretch out. 

It was a big day. Well, sort of. He guessed it was really more like a normal day, but with the added advantage of trekking out into town, which was unusual considering. It had been pretty much a good while since he and Ford had gone down there and seen everyone that was still left here and he found himself in pretty good spirits over the idea of being called in for a mission. It may even mean stopping by Ford’s bunker on the way back and emailing some pictures and a letter over to grunkle Stan.

Dipper’s hand hovered over a few items, precautions to pack, a usual set of anti-paranormal gear. Some salt, a map, compass, camera, crystals, some old fashioned gear, a brown bag filled to the brim with glowing marble looking things; slipping his backpack on when everything was tucked away and instinctively and of the ease of a daily ritual, bringing an old journal under one arm labeled with a bolded “8” on top of a golden imprinted Pine Tree at its cover. He was set.

Pulling open the door from the once-study, he then took down the hall automatically, reaching for the stairs that led down to the kitchen and lost in wondering if Ford had managed to get up already by now. Honestly? It was a toss up. The two were really way too similar in that way, barely sleeping, always working or studying, and generally, when they did, eating up the early hours of the morning pretty fast and irregularly just to stomp in, half asleep, to grab about for coffee sometime in the early to late afternoon.

Dipper went off to pull together some coffee and good old fashioned breakfast. Ford had spent most of the last thirty years consisting on whatever he could get his hands on or...well, nothing. He could hear his uncle’s voice in his head. _ “Sometimes, Dipper, in the multiverse you don’t even need food for sustenance. It’s a very...interesting place. Very strange. Other times, little pancake men would jump into your face, demanding to be eaten.” _

Unfortunately that never actually translated to  _ this _ reality where mere humans still needed breakfast. Dipper pulled a bag of oatmeal from the cupboard, tossed some water into a pot and left it to boil. Meanwhile, after grinding up some coffee, he set that too under a small flame beside the other, taking care to dump in some sugar into the oatmeal before propping himself up on the countertop to eagerly pull out his map. It was huge. A modified mismatch, covered in lines and notes of the entire area of Gravity Falls. Very little was spared for the town itself, most of the lines and detailed scribbles left out in the forest. After stretching and shaking it out flat, he followed the red lines into town, mind already two steps ahead to where they’d be heading.

Lazy Susan had reported some strange bat looking creatures causing havoc in her garden just outside her house. Pretty standard mischief makers from the sound of it, probably a level 1 or 2 at most. Probably the thing in most danger being her cabbage patch. Nothing that would take more than an hour or so to clear out in his opinion.

And as his mind turned, he glanced up toward the small window along the kitchen, frowning curiously at a creature held up in against it nearby. He rapped a knuckle at the eyeless raven and it squawked indignantly and stuck a snake tongue his way, a puff of short fire pluming from its beak. 

“Hey, hey. Shoo.  _ Shoo _ .” He admonished, rapping a few more times. The dumb thing was known for bad omens and bad luck, said to be attracted to death and the cursed. It had...some truth to the idea. Whenever they were around, mistakes of misfortune seemed to gather to everyone in the vicinity from tripping over shoe laces to mistakenly knocking over pots, pans, inventions and plates. He should know, he’d been the one that they seemed to have flocked to.

The young man tapped harshly again, before finally it puffed its feathers, shot him what may have been an affronted look if it  _ had  _ any eyes before finally taking off to the sky. Mostly, in Dipper’s opinion, they were pests and boy did they love fresh baked goods. Something they’d learned the hard way years back after Mabel had decided to have a bake sale in the backyard maybe an eon ago. He lingered on the thoughts only sparsely, a twisting pain settling in his stomach. “Probably the oatmeal.” He muttered to himself, finger twitching while distracting against those thoughts as he glanced over to the pot. 

Yeah. Probably the oatmeal. Nothing to be said for how they lingered around imminent trouble.

They’d showed up the first time just before the days of Weirdmagedon. 

The second, at least as far as he could tell, had solely been rested on the cranberry and mayonnaise pies Mabel had thrown together. Worst bake sale ever.

Grunkle Stan had roped them off and declared them “Mystery Foods of the UNKNOWN” and charged tourists a handful.

His grin, touching at that memory, was soft and forlorn and strained. Too strained. His shoulders tensed and he stared against the old, tiled floor. After a moment of silence, he finally shifted himself and it took little to no time for him to fold the map back together and into his backpack. Without more delay he moved deft fingers to fix up the coffee, and throw in some dried cranberries into the oatmeal before flipping off the respected flames, moving quickly and with a purpose of driving his mind elsewhere. What was there to linger against? Things were exactly what they were these days.

It was right around the time his uncle came shuffling into the room, hair still a bed ridden mess and scruff shadowing clearly on his half awake face. His uncle was tall, broad, and these days appearing almost to be in his early forties with grisly thick brown hair edging towards grey and his same as always black square rimmed spectacles. He still held the figure of a heavier athlete and whenever things went south it showed clear in every swift, calculated movement. He’d survived hell and back in the multiverse for some thirty years, Dipper knew that all too well.

While clearly only half awake, he scratched at his chin and grinned weakly in his direction, waving him over as he dropped into the kitchen table. “Breakfast.” He said, voice sounding pleased. “Excellent.” Dipper served them both, slopping the oatmeal in two bowels and sliding over the coffee, which Ford nursed as if it might be the last good thing left on this earth. Days like these, sometimes it really felt like it, to be honest. As Dipper slid into a chair his mentor smiled into the mug, setting it down with a satisfied sigh. “Excellent as always, kiddo. Thanks.” He commended, lifting the mug with a soft smile. 

Dipper grinned weakly at that, giving back a quick, “Yeah. Sure thing...no problem.” And took to his own mug, looking to it, still fighting to drag himself back to the present. Ford took him in, studying his appearance, before leaning back slightly.

“Well! Looks like we’ll be heading out here within the hour.” He declared, pulling down his sleeve and going over one of the many watches strapped there. “I haven’t seen anything else pop up that looks too serious just yet, at least on the interdimensional scale, but, it doesn’t hurt to go prepared. These days you really never know.”

That was an understatement. 

Dipper downed a good mouthful of his coffee, nodding offhandedly.

“Right. Sounds good. I’m uh. I’m all set.”

The grin tilted up against his uncle’s face, not looking surprised.

“I knew you would be.” He replied bracingly, raising the mug appreciatively. And again, his lips tugged at his own grin despite himself. His mentor’s approval still tended to have that effect on him, even all this time later. “But in any case, it’ll take me just a minute to gather up my things. Tell you what. Why don’t you check the perimeter and I’ll meet you outside?”

Either one of them tended to alternate in the task usually, and Dipper gave to a nod. It wasn’t like there was much left to do here and, to be honest, it didn’t bother him to be the one to check it out. He shifted, hoisting himself out of his chair and grabbing his backpack


	2. The Multiverse Says What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been over a year since Dipper had gotten trapped, sucked into the dimension along with his uncle Ford, sacrificing everything. The portal was gone and again Ford was trapped in the outer dimensions, forced to return to his old life, only this time, Dipper was there with him. Dipper has to fight through all the impossibilities of the outer dimensions as Ford’s apprentice, living twisted scfi lives and hiding from intergalactic law before he soon learns that his uncle was not exactly living in this life alone…(Rick and Morty/Gravity Falls with the twist of me loving the fuck out of Ford and Dipper in a Rick and Morty life style. Also Morty getting a friend who gets it and Rick...just...sorta having a loyal but super disapproving friend. Because I love that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a super old unfinished fic. You can just tell by the style, yikes. And before Journal 3 release was even a whisper among the fandoms! Whoop.

**Warnings:** None

**Pairings:** NONE. Or I don’t know, probably. Who needs them when you’ve got ADVENTURE?!

**A/N:** Summary says it all. Also Bill later. Because fuck it, just love that guy. 

* * *

“Ford?  _ UNCLE FORD?! _ ” He stood there, stark still as death, clutching the readily purple-glowing “ _ Ultimate Cube _ ” in both hands, eyes wide and frozen - fixated on the incoming monstrous creature too unspeakable for fathomability charging toward him. So... _ so _ many wriggling legs, what looked like a thousand orifices, hundreds of wild eyes, and colorful goop flinging freely from every crevice of what appeared almost to be a slimy, gross,  _ freely  _ moldable skin _. _

“DIPPER!  _ Dipper _ , you have to jump!” The man cried, lasers shooting from a device strapped to his wrist, some twenty feet above him

God. Oh god, oh god,  _ oh god _ .

This was crazy! This was insane. Even for  _ them _ , this was  **_insane_ ** . “Ohgod,ohgod,ohgod--” He spoke all in one tone out loud this time, words meshing together in panic and tore his gaze to the gap of metallic ledge to an endless purple clouded abyss at the side, wrenching his eyes back to the massive creature flinging itself in his direction and let out a yell of panic.

“JUMP, DIPPER, JUMP!  **_NOW_ ** , MY BOY,  **_NOW!!_ ** ” God. Oh god. He had  _ no choice _ . The words surged from his brain to his legs and, clutching the cube as if it was his whole life, he used the force of his own scream to fling himself over the edge, voice sending his throat raw. He had leapt, he did it. And then he was flying. And the air was catching all around him, legs flying, running freely, nothing but nothing holding him back....and then….and then he...was...  _ falling _ .

Oh no. Ooooh no. Oh no, oh shit, oh  _ crap-- _

The world spun on itself. Gravity won out against him. FUCK! He was FALLING...BECAUSE OF STUPID GRAVITY!!

There was some  _ seriously _ stupid pun in that that Mabel would’ve pointed out right about now. Gravity. Falling... _ Gravity Falls! _ UGH! WAIT. STUPID BRAIN! He was going to die and  _ that _ was going to be his last thought!?  **_Seriously!?_ **

“DIPPER!” His grunkle cried from above, frantic as his flailing legs spun out, and, oh so very anticlimactically, he just plummeted. For a moment, time seemed to have frozen, and he almost did feel like a crazy bugs bunny cartoon character, running on empty air - but that moment sped past way too fast and the world was  _ real  _ again.

This was it.

After all the adventures, all the mystery, all the impossibilities and science and nonsense and... _ and… _ !

His eyes screwed shut, he yelled, screaming for all he was worth. Expecting the worst.

Only...abruptly things...didn’t quite go  _ as  _ expected.

The boy clutched against the cube, eyes screwed shut, but voice dying away as the sense of the world pummelled back into him with a force of a thousand frantic heart beats. He could’ve stayed like that forever, clutching onto his own life with nothing but sheer willpower and youthful denial until he finally cracked, prying an eye open, to find...nothing. Him not moving at all. Or falling. Or...you know, dying. Or anything.

A blubbering roar came from above him. The boy took his gaze upward and found that he had in fact started fallen a little but...well, just by a bit. And...huh. Okay...right now he was floating. Not falling. No death. No endlessness. No splat. Just...kind of hovering in the middle of two scfi-yvmetallic walls, clutching to a glowing purple cube. Which...was...holding him up? Wait, hold up, the cube could  _ float!? _

“HIYY **_AAA_ ** \--!!” He heard the rough, stern voice of his grunkle from above, and a loud screaming inhuman wail shrieking to follow. Multi-colored slime gushed from overhead, splashing him right in the face.  _ Ugh. _ GROSS. “Gross.” He repeated from the formed thought and made to shakily wipe it from his eyes. To his astonishment he made out his uncle, a thick neon green laser shooting from the device on his wrist and attaching to an upper wall before the other went into action, leaping down the gap toward him. The laser seemed as if tangible, and, like a rope in that of Indiana Jones, held the great uncle as he swung in closer and closer toward him, grinning and giving a hearty, booming laugh. “ _ There _ you go Dipper, you  **_did_ ** it!” He cried, and pressing another button on the device absentmindedly, the laser-vine quit feeding him more of itself; leaving the older man swinging in even closer at his level. His grunkle grabbed hold of both him  _ and _ the cube and the laser-vine snapped off, leaving them flying off toward another ledge in the Cavernous Prison Labyrinth of Certain Doom. God, he wished he were making these names up. Even he could think of something better than that. 

They landed in a tumble, rolling a few times before landing in a heap. At which point the teen just couldn’t help himself. He burst out into laughter. “I’M  **_ALIVE_ ** !” He cried fiercely, jumping to his feet, punching the air with the joy of it escaping him, and for all he was worth leaping up and down on  _ solid _ ,  _ beautiful _ ground. Metal labyrinth-y scfi ground, but who cared! Ground was  _ ground  _ all the same. Ford embraced the other in ferverence, first in a harsh hug, then heftily against the shoulder, laughing alongside and whooping in triumph.

“YES! YOU DID IT, DIPPER!” The man beamed, “ _ We _ did it. And we’re getting out of here.” The man looked down to him and the two shared grins, mirroring the rush they’d just survived through. Dipper laughed again, pride and relief and adrenaline fighting through him, filling his whole being. They had  _ done  _ it. Yes! And, alright. So if he were honest, uncle Ford actually  _ saying _ as much and maybe even being proud of him? That kind of got to him sometimes. In a good way. He maneuvered the cube beneath one arm, taking in stride with his mentor, so to speak, onward along the metal path, the other’s hand still grasping his shoulder fiercely.

“So, uh, do you know how to get out of here now?”

Ford grinned, glancing to the side down toward him.

“I do, in fact. We’re fortunate enough to have plummeted  _ right _ toward one of the few  _ actual _ exits in this place.” He shook his head, “After our portal-accelerator broke, I was honestly almost worried we’d be stuck in this place for good.” And he laughed, “Well! Good thing we lucked out, huh, Dipper?” He laughed in return. Boy, was he. Not like this was the  _ first _ time an adventure had gone sideways.

“Seriously! Guess we’re going to have to be a liiiittle more careful in the future though, huh?” Ford paused a moment and experimentally tapped against one of the many square metallic plates at the wall in front of them against the endless labyrinth before smartly knocking it twice. The space shook beneath them, vibrating roughly, before a few of the square metal tiles maneuvered, shifting around, slivers of neon green lights breaking through just behind and beneath them as they did. Soon an opening was formed, the vast green light the only thing remaining to shine through. It spiraled, and after a moment, it became obvious it was some kind of portal. Dipper was, well, familiar with them by now.

“You bet, son. Just one second…” Ford messed against the device strapped to his wrist, and the portal blipped on and then off again, “Just...recalibrating to our exact destination...” He glanced up a few times before the green spiraling light stabilized and he took on an expression of satisfaction. “Perfect. Now, what say we get the hell out of here.” And there they had it. The end to another...crazy, whacky adventure. It was almost like being in Gravity Falls - except, well, it wasn’t like being in Gravity Falls at all... It  _ would _ be a lot like it if, for example, all that weirdness and craziness was just...on. All the time.  _ Everywhere _ . Every day without stop. Then, well, he guessed it kind of was like home? Also, it seemed slightly worrying that he was now considering Gravity Falls his home. Whatever happened to California with mom and dad? God, that seemed like lightyears away by now. Even the thought of his parents made things...well, awkward. He didn’t generally like to get stuck on...feelings. About those kinds of things. What mattered was here and now, right? Getting through this and eventually getting back…! And, well, honestly, the odd scfi adventure and impossible mystery here and there didn’t hurt things.

As the two stepped through the portal, a familiar rush flew over them. It was almost like the sensation of plunging face first into a lake of water, except the feeling was momentary and as they stepped through the other side they definitely didn’t get wet. The light of the portal really only lasted a few seconds on the other end; highlighting their living space clearly. 

An open lab stood before them, deep underground, all too familiar to the one beneath the Mystery Shack; littered with gadgets and gizmos, metal tables, shelves, cryogenic tubes, chambers and the half removed portal so similar to the one back at home that had already been disassembled. Off to the side were two cots and some bedside tables where assortments of papers and maps were abandoned for another day; a testament to the adventures past and future and mysteries still being solved even now.

Dipper stretched one arm wide, yawning as the portal snapped shut behind them. “Uuuugh, geez. What a day...” He turned to hand Ford the purple glowing cube, the other obliging in taking it from him and examining it. “Man. I’m going to take a shower and then hit the hay. Is that alright Uncle Ford? Maybe you can...” And he let out another wide yawn, “Teach me more about the Ultimate Cube tomorrow?” Normally Dipper was up for staying days up with the other, toying with this and that, but this latest adventure was really kicking his ass.

His mentor waved him off, a keen look of understanding coming over his expression. He too looked pretty frazzled and spent. He guessed they’d both been through the ringer.

“That sounds like an excellent plan, actually. Why don’t we pick up on this more tomorrow?” Dipper offered a weak grin. If his uncle was forgoing research and tinkering to sleep, then he was sure they both needed it.

The shower was quick, and thoroughly embracing. Taking in every one of his senses, and washing away all the grime, the fear, the worry and adrenaline; taking with it down into the drain. The water was a light blue, the droplets glowing and shimmering like LED; a particular property of the planet their bunker resided on. It left an extra fresh feeling to sooth into his sore muscles and aching body. It was nice. A relief, actually.

The boy trundled off towards his bunk, yawning widely. His “bunk” was more of a cot, and it awaited, a mess of blankets and unmade glory. He collapsed into it without a second thought, only left with the vague feeling and awareness of what was bound to come. What always came. What...actually, he couldn’t help but look forward to, even in this state.

He really shouldn’t be thinking this. He shouldn’t be...what was the word? Excited? Relieved…? For this, to see that  _ thing, _ but here he was. God. Stupid Dipper. King of Stupid...Idiot Land. Idiot Land Kingdom ruler, the great dumb-dumb, Dipper the great...moron head. Head of Morons. That was him.

Man. It shouldn’t be like this.

As soon as his head hit the sack, as soon as his eyes shut...suddenly they snapped open again, the whole world plunging into familiar shades of those vibrant reds and blues. Everything highlighting in an eerie flavor of reality, blacks marking the edges and corners. A familiar space that soon faded away, falling into a cosmos of stars and planets - in colors of dark, fierce vibrance. He was floating...and, rather dully, he sighed. _ ‘Here we go.’ _

“Wellllll,  _ there _ you are, Pine Tree!” A voice, delighted, buzzed, echoing ominously from all ends. A single eye appeared from one of the closet planets, a slit rolling its way from behind it to stare at him, highlighting his floating form with a ray of strong light.

Dipper sighed once again, tipping his hat downward and looking off, crossing his arms as he floated.

“Hey, Bill.” He spoke heavily. Great. The nightly routine here again.

“Sooooo, busy day, huh? How ya enjoying the multiverse kid? Is it everything you ever  _ dreamed? _ Saw you almost got your face melted off! HAH! Classic.” The demon prompted ecstatically, three dark lines outlining around the moon and forming the demon for what he was - a golden triangle with the trademark tophat and bowtie. He floated down to eye level with him, looking as cavalier as ever.

Dipper rolled his eyes, “Great! Yeah, loved it. You know, you never mentioned anything about slug like...tentacle monsters in that place. You could’ve warned me.” He accused. Bill shrugged.

“Hey! You never asked.”

He took a level look at the demon. “Right. Well. Like I’d even trust you either way. If you could’ve, you probably would’ve orchestrated that whole thing yourself.” The other laughed again,

“Hah, true.” 

Dipper pinched his nose.

“Anyways. Look...nothing’s changed. I’m  _ still _ not going to make any kind of deal with you. In fact, I’m  _ never _ making a deal with you, man. Ford already told me all about Weirdmageden, and it’s not going to happen.  _ Ever _ . Nothing will ever change that.”

The triangle threw out his arms defensively, “Whoooaa, whoa, hey now! Who said anything about all of that? I thought we had an understanding here, kid! Maybe I just enjoy a little intrigue here and now! Besides, you’ve got my attention now, Pine Tree.” If the other could’ve grinned, it would be all over his triangular face. “I already told ya’. In this place between rifts and worlds, you’re more susceptible! I mean,” The other took to floating up, shrugging in an innocent, nonchalant fashion, “Now that ol’ Six Fingers has gone and immunized your brain from my influence not so much buuuut -” He prodded his cane at Dipper’s face, “Doesn’t mean we aren’t  _ connected _ , pal. After our last deal, you’re kind of in my throws! So to say! You and Six Fingers both! I got both your names right here on my...heh, “SOUL”, engraved and marked. Means I’m always close by. Always! And means we can visit like this any time any place!”

“Right. Yippie.” Dipper said flatly. Great. Yaaay. So he was on the lifelong list of things Bill had access to. His soul or...whatever was tied, somehow, to this demon. Since apparently, or at least according to the other (and a very reluctant, forlorn and...very guilty uncle Ford) contracts didn’t just end when the contract was over. There was a...what was it? A connection? A residue?

“More like an  _ after effect. _ A bonus, if you will!!” Bill chimed in helpfully. Ugh. Stupid...triangle demon. Reading his mind...dreamscape mind.

He glared.

“Right. After effect.” Basically, it meant he and Bill were  _ tied _ . Their souls or whatever. Tied together somehow. In the same way Uncle Ford and Bill were tied. Any time he  _ wanted _ to make a deal, he could. In an instant. Nothing but saying the word, and the demon would be there. And...he guessed there were a load of other related nonsense crap tied in there that he wasn’t exactly privy to just yet...including the other spying on him? He wasn’t too sure, but none of it sounded at all good.

It  _ also  _ meant that nightly visits like this were possible in the dreamscape and even Ford’s methods and inventions couldn’t prevent them. Just as long as he didn’t do anything  _ stupid _ like actually make a deal, things were fine. It was fine. He was in total control. Just meant insufferable nights with this guy. This guy that he...uh, really...was not thinking to actually...kind of getting used to by now? Used to was the right word. Not friendly. Definitely  _ not _ friendly.

How was that even possible, he couldn’t tell. Earth to Dipper, crazy called, it has your name _ right here.  _ Damn it.

Bill seemed to be way,  _ way _ too enjoying this streamline of thinking, apparently, too.

“You know Pine Tree, if I didn’t  _ know _ better, I’d actually say you were  **_enjoying_ ** these little get togethers.” The other crooned, looking way too full of himself to be at all okay.

“No! No.” He abruptly put forward, flatly, pointing a finger at the other sharply all while floating, “No. I do not. In fact, you know, this has been fun but. No.”

“Awww, come on, Pine Tree!! Lighten up a little!” The other snapped and a party hat appeared on his head with accompanying party blower in his mouth. “Seriously! You know I’m starting to rub off on you, don’t lie!” The bright voice continued cheerily, wiggling his directed finger in Dipper’s cheek.

Dipper kept his arms crossed, hunching into a glare at the other, frown unmistakable as the party blower blew out flatly with a “ppffffbbtt,” not at all amused. He spit it out.

“Knock it off, man. Seriously.”


	3. Spirited Astray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had all thought that once Weirdmagedon ended, things would go back to normal. They’d saved the world, right? Well, apparently fissures in between realities and space don’t fix so easy. All it takes is one little tear to make everything come unraveled; leaving the entire world spilling into uncontrolled chaos as multiverse clashes with the real world, allowing creatures, weirdness, spirits and aliens to roam free. Ford takes Dipper under his wing, and now, many years later, Dipper is infamously known as the man’s apprentice far and wide. Struggling to survive, alone, without Mable, Stan, or Ford, Dipper keeps hold of the only trinket he has left of his mentor and of his past - a brilliant golden pendent, a heavy triangle etched with a single, solid closed eye. (Eventual heavy Billdip, slow burn, canon divergence after Weirdmageddon)

**A/N:** Write a romance story without heavy plot, they said. Eat a fart, I say in reply. I honestly have no abilities to do anything but dump a heaping pile of plot on everything. Help. It may be a problem.

* * *

He tapped, gently, pencil against desk - gaze a distance against the open street. Strange creatures listlessly passed by, globs of blue and swirlings of cartoonish monsters roamed. Dipper’s gaze was foggy, distracted, taking in bits and pieces of the mesh of colors and shapes streaming beyond the window pane.

The world was a strange place these days. Filled with the chaos and unpredictability of the multiverse itself, broken in the spaces of cracks in reality itself, in vibrant portals of impossibilities, of surreal, strange oddities that only Gravity Falls had once spouted of. It was as if someone had taken a magnifying glass and shoved it out over his once home back in that sleepy town, spreading it across the globe in giant, jagged cracks along the air that could never be sealed.

Dipper took careful hold of his coffee mug, tasting at the calming bitterness, the heat biting at his throat. He shut his eyes, tired, taking it in. Things had changed. And changed drastically and violently. Hierarchies shifted. Society spilling into a kind of weird, bizarre mix of supernatural, scfi and spirit world. Factions were made. Realms were created. Locations taken over. And humans? Well, they were just the suckers caught between it all. 

Nimble fingers played with the pendant in his hands unconsciously; a golden chain cold against the touch. It helped ground him, jogging his mind, keeping him awake and in the stream of moving thoughts. He'd have to be back soon. He'd have to work on finishing this project later. Unconsciously, he slid the necklace back over his head in just a short wrestle of long curls of brown hair, dropping it to his chest. It pressed there, familiar and secure before he climbed to his feet, tossing some coins onto the table as he went and shoving his notebook under one arm.

The cafe was one of the many “weird-free” zones in the city; cast and surrounded by fields of energy to keep the heaps of certain supernatural strangeness at bay. It wasn’t always legal to play it like this, but some “human rights” activists of the clearly alien sort had petitioned for its allowance in exchange said aliens acted as a go between with the particular branch of weird-supernatural world that was kept at bay. That way the lowly humans had a place to themselves. At least on the surface. At least on paper. Reality was a lot harsher than that, typically speaking.

The bell jingled above him in a friendly, innocent chime, and he crossed the blue shielded barrier between the doors and the grey sidewalk outside, a hush of noise tilting the balance from quiet to loud and surreal and unearthly. Large balls of liquid ballooned to the purple struck sky around him, him sidestepping them with an ease, tugging at his jacket with one hand and bringing his cap down to shield himself just slightly from staring eyes. Humans were the lowest of the food chain and he was far from eager to test the curiosities or attention of anything.

His feet took, hitting against familiar pavement in the unconscious ease of practice, skating passed creatures with one too many or too few heads sprouting in odd places, sliding passed a teeth monster and bowing his respects to a strange, overly blown black ghost like creature with a wizened, spilling beard and no face. It returned the bow, tipping off its bowler hat with a certain amount of respect.

Of course Dipper had long since learned the cultural norms of this strange, new world. Long since put to memory every misstep, every mistake, every horrible misunderstanding every other human seemed too panicked and breaking to insane induced to try and nail down or...really learn at all. Fight of flight. The nature of the apocalypse had broken into it in a fury of panic and screams. That was all you could find after the explosion of reality shifting in front of the world, tossed to the scape of the unnatural and strange into daily life. Horrific, ghostly monsters and the defying of physics itself did that to a person. It was a god damned blessing, his experience in Gravity Falls, and more importantly his late teacher, Uncle Ford, for drilling weirdness into his brain as if it were a second language, alongside for his knack at swimming in the overwhelming tides of it. His mentor had molded his already vibrant curiosity, deepening his perspective, his thrill in solving mysteries becoming more level, seeking reason, and decisive decisions in a single step of one fleeting second to the next. That and the martial arts classes. Those had _definitely_ come in handy. 

As it was, Ford was the master at taking on the “bold new world” with a fierce, curious nature and knack for survival that could rival anyone and anything. He’d become absolutely infamous, a beacon, an icon for the resistance of humankind and the bridge, possibly, that lay between them. He’d become known to every alien, spector, or freak; and many of them didn’t even consider his uncle human at all, but something else, different, like _them_. Dipper at those times was always close at his shadow, just behind his coattails, journal in hand, always at the ready. It had been a long, long time since he’d seen him now. Far too long.

The boy slipped through a break in a metal fence, sliding down an alleyway without looking up. His necklace bounced at his chest, heavy and familiar and secure, a distant reminder of the man, a distant reminder of _a lot_ of things. His mentor’s final request. A familiar pang crept horribly on him, aching and deep and oh so strong. He gave pause to clutch to the golden chain, fingers ghosting its length as he moved along. 

Ghost dogs riveted through trash, faceless snouts rising against bits and pieces of food and plasma and trash just to follow at his figure gazelessly. Rats, the normal kind, skittered between buildings, disappearing in the cracks of storm drains passed his feet. City life roared around him. It was familiar now - too much so and his legs worked almost as if on automatic.

Up ahead, he could finally make out his destination, an ease of tension lifting at the strain between his shoulder blades. Great. Probably a good way to avoid being eaten or taken in as a wayward pet or something. He stopped at an old, rusted red door, shifting his stance as he pulled an old key out of his pocket. The thing had seriously saved him time and time again over the years. It fit with an ease into the lock, and with a magical force even now he couldn’t quite explain, the door clicked open with a turn of the key, allowing him to push it open without resistance.

Light spilled outwards. _Life_ spilled outwards. Bright images, flurries of movement and sound, voices trilling and conversing, voices loud and laughter plenty. It was as if the boy had simply opened the door out into another world entirely; one filled with jubilance, rushing in with sharp, bright relief.

A small frog in a top hat and well placed monocle leapt along, pausing and catching his figure by the side while he shut the rusted door behind.

“DIPPER! There you are!” The small voice chirped suddenly in relief, bouncing closer. He paused in front of the young man to get on hind legs and adjust his hat, looking relieved but clear anxiety fidgeting against the small creature’s features. He gave a loud, high ribbit of disapproval. “I swear! Where in the heavens have you even been!? You know how she gets when everything’s not moving in order!” The frog brushed at himself, casting a worried glance up at his own shadowed features. 

Dipper lifted his hat slightly, bracing on a weak grin, running a hand through long, curls of brown hair.

“Sorry Thomas. I was kind of...uh, well, preoccupied.”

“Better not be more of that dang-fangled research of yours. You know, that hogwash’ll be the death of you, boy! In _more ways_ than one.” He chirped again, shaking his tiny, bulbous head. “But you know what, you’re in luck. No one’s noticed you’re late.” He hopped along amicably as Dipper trundled off against the hard floor, slipping his trenchcoat off as he went. “If you hurry, you’ll be able to slip into uniform in jiff. No harm, no fowl, right!”

He grinned meekly, offering another weary, but grateful look.

“Thanks, Thomas. I’ll get right on it.”

“You better! Don’t forget, this week’s the grand festival! We’re going to be up to our earholes in clients. Our earholes, boy!” 

He laughed weakly, 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, Thom.” And the frog gave him a wary, disbelieving gaze, before Dipper waved him off, rushing off through the crowd of odd creatures and shapes. 


	4. Cold Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings, BillDip was the trajectory

It was so...so cold. But the biting, horrible feeling of it was actually kind of starting to fade now. He felt the numbness creep into him, a vapor of breath escaping out into the night. His eyes stared distant in a pained daze at the flecks of snow that scattered downward, gently kissing against cold, pale skin.

A sky above stretched out above, the stars somehow clear beyond the rows of pine trees, even in the gently falling snow. He could make out the moon, bright and towering; surreal in a ghostly light that cast upon the dark forest. And all the stars and constellations scattering like an explosive cloud above, stunning, breathtaking.

His eyes met that of his namesake. The Big Dipper, holding to it softly, a painful expression gaining against him, along with a weak, tired grin.

And as he drifted, eyes gently closing, he gave a very light chuckle.

“It’s funny...” He said softly to the open air, forcing his head to turn against the snow, feeling numb.

Two eyes met the stone large statue, old, worn, and cracked against the wilderness. 

“I’m gonna die, and you’re here…” He felt his eyes drag, forcing themselves shut, and fought against it, reaching out a numb hand to touch at the cold, worn, vine and moss covered stone. He guessed it kind of made sense that his fingers couldn’t feel anything. He gave another weak chuckle, “Figures, huh, Bill...?”

And finally the pull of it seemed to be too much. The numbing warmth already spreading over him, heavy eyes dragging shut underneath the shadow of the dream demon’s statue, his held out hand frozen in time just between him and the bright, endless star strewn sky above. He couldn’t help but appreciate the irony, a still fragile smile against his face as unconsciousness took hold.

And the statue stood. And there, Dipper’s body would remain frozen in time just beneath it for months to come. Deep in a forest of magic and mysterious….and ultimately, death. And as Dipper’s fingers slid from the stone, hitting the ground in a soft thud, the night stretching on above.

In the following silence a slight crack ran, crawling rapidly at the statue’s single eye, leaving with it in an absolute, still silence.

* * *

“ That's life!

That's what aaaall the people say

You're riding high in April...

You're shot down in May!

I know I'm gonna change that tune

When I'm back on top in June …”

The piano pulled, shifting up from the floor, spinning gently. Bill ran his fingers along the keys, hitting each note in perfect time, an echo radiating in chorus around.

“I say _ that's life _

And as funny as it may seem

Some people get their kicks

Stompin' on a dream

But I don't let it, let it get me down

'Cause this fine ol' world keeps spinning 'round ”

He put a particular flourish against the piano.

“Oooh  I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate

A poet, a pawn, and a king

I've been up and down and over and out... ”

And as the piano came to a gentle halt, a spotlight focused against his small golden form, he sighed, pausing against the middle of the song. “Geez, Pine Tree…” His eye glanced back to take in the lifeless form, cold and pale, at the foot of the stage. A roll of snow cascaded up against the ground there, settling into the further silence. “Really know how to kill a crowd, huh?” Bill’s voice was anything from its usual wild, chipper tone though. Instead, something subtly serious and flat held to it, his fingers slipping away from the keys as he studied the still form in the silence.

...Silence. The chorus of endless nothing. How long had that silence stretched on until now? Decades? Millenia? More…? This hadn’t been the deal. This hadn’t  _ been _ how it was supposed to turn out. For a demon that had spanned all of trillions of years, and for a concept that supposedly didn’t exist, this kind of time had its toll. Nothing but himself, cocooned and squared away against the forest, intombed in rock. 

Silence in the void. And more nothing. And more nothing...

He pressed a single key on repeat, a soft echo sounding in the isolation echoing around him.

Time moved in funny ways here, he’d discovered quickly. Or rather, it almost seemed it didn’t move at all. Not exactly. When you were gone, plummeted into a nonspace, just like that, things didn’t follow the same set of rules as they usually do.

In the space he was trapped in, time could be anything at all. 

Time could be forever. Time could be a single second. It could be nothing at all.

And sometimes, it could stretch trillions of years, planets cascading, stars imploding somewhere overhead, and him here in the whole of it...in a listless void; a white blank nothing - eternity stretching out and playing and playing and playing. In his own personal silence. Just his memories...and mind. And  _ time.  _ And how it stretched. Beat by beat. Day by dragging day. Stars shone and vanished, far above. Like static in the wind.

He stared at the ground, sighing, before floating dully into the air. A demon’s mindscape was fun for a while. But a while was way too subjective.

His eye fell onto the dying child just beneath him, painted in a portrait of snow; the white capturing his essence, his oddly haunting, almost beautiful icy pale corpse, for as long as winter lasted. Maybe forever. At least for him.

And after a long moment he took a finger, pressing it to the kid’s forehead; meeting the place where the birthmark resided, exactly the same since all that time ago.

It flashed blue, every star and line, a subtle glowing flame springing from the mark, all the way beneath the skin.

Bill simply floated there, waiting, studying the kid as he did.

There was some irony here, you could say. But enough time had passed, or...he guessed maybe hadn’t, that it didn’t seem to strike him as funny in quite the same way. Ironic, for sure.

* * *

It was some time before he felt a rush of warmth overwhelm him. And Dipper gasped, a bone rattling, deathly inhale of air; the searing heat filling his body like liquid fire. His eyes snapped open in a rush, a flash of blue flame licking against his irises before moving on and clawing through his whole body; every nerve, every muscle, every bone. He gulped down heavy, cold air; blinking furiously and shakily sitting up.

What the  _ fuck _ .

He breathed deep, mind swimming, head shifting against him and shaking hard.

Except…

Even as he gasped in air, he found himself staring downwards in a fury of dislodged, jumbled confusion.

And numbly, kept staring. His body. It was...transparent? Oh god. Oh god...oh  _ god. _

He moved his hands in front of him, heart thudding like a rush in his ears, something he wasn’t sure was even  _ possible _ like this. His eyes came down to meet another him. Another body. A corpse. Solid and corporeal, in which he was _ sitting up inside _ . HOLY SHIT.

“Congrats kid, you’re stuck here forever!!” A voice bright and cheery tore into his mid panic attack. He whirled around, letting out a startled choking noise at the sudden voice behind him.

And there he was. Floating there with a dull look, arms hung down in front of him, legs trailed just behind him. Bill.  _ Bill _ . No. No that was impossible. This was  _ impossible!  _ His eyes widened, throat catching, his brain still reeling and still dizzy from the rush of oxygen. Even as he was, everything still  _ felt _ vivid and tangible and  _ painfully  _ real.

“....Bill.” He whispered, voice croaking on hoarse. His gaze flew around him, trying to find some escape, some explination, some  _ reason _ that would get him out of this mess. But even as he glanced around desperately, taking in the woods, and snow, and dark, he found nothing that made sense...and...also...was that a stage? With a piano and red curtains?

His eyes fell again to the ice cold body beneath him and desperately, uncertainly, automatically lifted a hand to try and touch it. Maybe he could go back. Maybe this was just a dream. A terrible, awful,  _ stupid _ dream. And he’d just...get back in his body and…

And...

“No such luck, kid. You’re not dead yet, but...eh. Guess time takes everything eventually, right?” The triangle shrugged, breaking him out of his panicked reverie.

“W-what did you do?” His strangled voice cut across the air, accusing tone creeping in and grabbing hold as he climbed to his feet and continuing to stare, emotions and panic piling over themselves. “How are you even  **_here?_ ** We-we  **_defeated_ ** _ you!” _ Was this even real? Was this just some kind of...kind of cold induced delusion??

Bill hung there for a moment in the dark, taking him in...before suddenly floating closer. Dipper took a quick step back against the snow at that, breathing in sharply; eyes wary and reflecting his readiness to fight. He brought his fists upward in defiance. Right. As if it would help somehow against the demon. 

At that however Bill’s expression seemed to soften, giving a slightly weak, genuinely amused chuckle. It sounded...strangely tired. Out of character almost. He was close enough now, so close he could  _ feel _ the warmth of that damn golden subtle light, eye staring right there in front of him. 

Crap. Anything could happen, and he knew it. Giant conscious teeth could materialize. Demons could sprout slug-like from his one eye. The world could be twisted, turned inside out to reveal flesh and bone and gore. But in a shocking moment the triangle reached out, poked a finger gently to his forehead, and just...looked at him. “Gotten a bit bigger, huh, kid?” And after a pause, where he just floated there, he let his finger drop. And then floated off. Just like that. No nightmares. No ecstatic horror. No confusing, horrifying, terror inducing death or being turned to stone.

Dipper stared for a good moment...before he glanced around, anxiety warring with his urge to just  _ fight _ , with the defiance that had risen like a roaring bear through him. “Okay. W...what’s going on here?” His voice was mixed in caution and sheer disbelief, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened there. He watched as the triangle materialized a chair in thin air and kicked back against it lazily.

“Well. You’re dead. Or about good as, I guess. In no time at all, that old meatsuit will be a thing of the icy snow ridden past.” The demon waved his hand a little aimlessly, “So you know, make yourself at home, kid. Or whatever.”

“Wha-- _ dead!? _ ” His eyes darted to his body, flashing back to Bill. At first he opened his mouth to snap,  _ “You’re lying!” _ but his panicked voice died in his throat before he even began. Actually...now that he was coming to himself, images of him lying there in a heap beneath the statue came creeping back to him, clouding over his mind. That was right...he’d come into the forest on a regular old creature hunt. At the time bundled up and armed with his journal and a pair of binoculars. It had been going fine. Great, even...well, all up until…

Flashed images of the beasts chasing him through the dark caught up with him in a flash, chasing at his heels, the howls digging into his skull. Tumbling, tripping and stumbling down a mountainside, snow and ice catching at his coat, ripping his jeans to shreds. Landing in a heap against a clearing.

He stared around for the image of the daunting statue he’d come upon while trying to orient himself, too exhausted to go on. And there it was, somehow farther than he remembered and cast more into deeper, darker shadow.

“Yeah, kid, dead. That’s something that happens when your primitive based cells reach a certain level of cryogenics and no longer regenerate.”

Dipper’s fingers reached up, gently to the statue, bringing them against its rough surface. For some reason he was actually able to touch it and he frowned at that, before taking his gaze back upward. Bill. The real thing. Floating there as if he’d never left to start with.

“And...and you? Just why the hell would you…” And Dipper stopped suddenly, realization dawning over him in a panicked hitch of breath. Of course. He was still so,  _ so  _ stupid. “Hold up! I am  _ not  _ making any kind of deal with you, Bill.” He suddenly erupted, jabbing a finger out at the other, fire flying back through him.

And at that...again to his utter shock, Bill abruptly laughed. And he laughed, laughing until he wheezed, having to float upward due to how hard he was laughing. The triangle brightened a little, after slapping his tiny knees in a giddy heap and floating upwards further to look down at the other.

“Hooo boy….! I cannot believe I forgot how much spunk you had, kid. Hahaha!  _ Seriously _ . Reminds me of why I like ya so much, honestly!” He gave another knee slap, and if he could, Dipper was sure he’d be beaming. 

He found himself spluttering in disbelief, both from the words and the shift in dynamic from the other’s suddenly brightening tone.

_ “LIKE ME!?  _ Last time we saw you, you tried to _ feed me  _ to a dice monster and skin me and Mabel  _ alive!”  _ His voice was harsh and fierce, trying to shake the weirdness of the exchange; defiant heat still lighting against him.

Bill just seemed brighter than ever at that, wiping a tear away from his eye. He looked at the other, looking positively thrilled.

“Heh. Oh right, I did, didn’t I.” He shrugged, “Well, heck. No offense Pine Tree...but what was I supposed to do? You’re a puny little meatsack...I’m a magnificent ageless triangle demon who had infinite power at his perfect fingertips. You do the math here! Plus, you were  _ really _ cramping my style.” 

The teen glared, gritting his teeth and crossing his arms. Cramping his  _ style? _ Is that what he called an Armageddon and all out terror fueled mass hysteria? Is that what he called turning all the towns people into endless agonized stone? He held his glare and eyed the other over. “Well, you know what? Whatever. Look, Bill. It doesn’t matter if I freeze to death.” His eyes settled again on his still, white body, and he felt his ghost-like teeth crush into each other. At this point it was looking pretty certain that this  _ was _ going to be the way things went. Still, he turned his steely eyes upward, fixing on the other being. “I’m not making a deal. Period. And if that’s not your game, then what exactly am I here for? Why would you...I don’t know, make me a weird blue ghost without a deal?” He demanded, certain this was some kind of trick to release Bill and his nightmare back onto the world.

The other shrugged dully, expression seeming suddenly somewhat more dull as he glanced off from his intense, riled gaze.

“...Who knows, Pine Tree. Who really knows.” The other floated off vaguely at that. 

“What? The hell’s that supposed to mean?!” He asked accusatory, voice dark. And before he knew it, the triangle was up to him again, prodding rather dully at his face, a subtle spark of amusement returning again to the demon.

“Heh. Anyone ever tell you that human faces are just  _ weird _ ?” He prodded again, “Yours is no exception, Short Stack. I mean just  _ look at you. _ Two tiny ocular holes, caterpillar hair slapped over them, weird elongated fur at the top.” He ruffled at his hair, chuckling, “What  **_freaks!_ ** Seriously! But heck, you know, probably partly why I actually kinda like you humans!” He said proudly and with that Dipper forced himself, stumbling back, giving a furious series of swats and a, “ _ DUDE! _ ” Bill chuckled at that, pulling his hands away just in time and floating a bit farther out of reach, hands cast behind his triangular head lazily. 

There was a brief pause, in which, breath tight, Dipper glared, at the ready and Bill floated a bit lazily. Before the dream demon sighed. “Look kid, honestly? You think too much. There is no reason. You can stay here in my mindscape, or, you know, you could go ahead and die like every other hapless meatsack in the universe. Vanish off into nonexistence, or...I don’t know, hellscape, another life, the great Axolotl. Whatever.” The other shrugged, “Doesn’t matter much to me, and let me tell you, that’s the truth. It’s your call.

This made no sense. Dipper was still certain that Bill was playing his time here. Just until his body was irretrievable. It was practically Bill’s MO. He gripped his fists, teeth on edge.

“You know what? Try for a third option,” He challenged, voice rising coldly, “Send me  _ back _ and I’ll manage.”

Bill surveyed him...and he could’ve sworn he caught a slight flicker of amusement. “Manage? Heheheh. God kid, you never get old!”


	5. Chaos and Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tilt of the cosmos. The mess of nightmares and dimensions strangled him. And the two, locked together, like this...for eternity. Dipper takes Ford’s internship, Weirdmageddon taking off years later in the making. A sacrifice is made, and one that can’t be taken back, binding him and a dream demon forever. BillDip, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Relationships:** The most BillDip of BillDips.  
>  **Warnings:** Mentions of gore  
>  **A/N:** Another old fic, and one that has a special place in my heart. I want to make it a thing so badly. One day, my friends. One day. Originally inspired from LCypherED’s fic, [Conspiratheory.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141743/chapters/9341529)

Dipper stared at the blurred, greying mirror in front of him. His expression was...strangely blank. He reached out, smudging a hand gently up against the aging dust.

 _“A million years. AND_ ** _ONLY A MILLION MORE TO GO, KID!”_** A voice erupted in his head, loud and overpowering, but always, it seemed really, pretty upbeat. 

Just how long had it been. Was there time here? It hadn’t been close to that long. Maybe five years. Maybe. He couldn’t actually say, lost in the tide of movement and flury and action. 

Either way, he hadn’t aged. Not a single day. His eighteen year old self still stared back at him, the dark, tight, haunted expression the only thing that had built through aging time. He’d become guarded. Certain of himself. Edged and quicker on drawing to instinct and quicker wits. He had a whole reserve of them, and age had only made the tricks up his sleeve far deeper and more vast than ever. The Nightmare Universe did that to a guy. And...well, so did certain eternal coexisting chaotic pyramid dream demons.

The two had been at a battle for so long now. A pull of ying and yang; a dance every day in and out. And...was it actually wrong that he’d grown fond of the dream demon? Was it wrong that the years had cast aside into a turmoil of...something like a dynamic? A play off each other of dependence and...connection? Beyond just trying to survive and beat the other in his own game? The universe was hectic in here. And this reality wasn’t easy to survive. Somehow with another, it made it...bearable. More than that.

Dipper had sealed Bill into his soul, so long ago.

And he’d sealed the both of them outside their own universe. Into the darker multiverse, the reality beyond their own. Floating and listless, trapped together like this, basically forever.

For Bill to survive, Dipper had to live. And for Dipper to live, he’d needed to adapt. 

With the seal came certain perks.

Something about immortality on his part, at least when it came to aging. Connecting to Bill’s immortal soul and Bill to his made some kind of hybrid - they could be killed now. But it was difficult. Age wasn't in the equation anymore and the two of them could heal rapidly. Not impossible, but it would be hard to kill them like this.

Something about...certain powers…?

He was also...sort of not human, he guessed? Not anymore at least.

He glanced at his hands, a strange blue aura radiating there and then back to his eyes, which had adopted a slight dim yellow glow. They didn’t exactly mimic Bill’s eyes. Not the manic slits or that warped enthusiastic, off-kelter smile that stretched there whenever he did take over.

But some things had changed.

You couldn’t exactly bind souls without repercussions after all. Not without some kind of tangled mess involved. Apparently this was a kind of one in a lifetime deal, and it wasn’t exactly reversible. Dipper had tied them together, ground Bill’s abilities down, kept him tethered to his own soul and mindscape, helpless to hurt others. Dipper had stopped Weirdmageddon. But it came at a pretty big price. His soul, for one. And two…well, eternity, like this. Together.

He glanced off from the mirror in the old abandoned Mystery Shack to the tiny floating yellow triangle that surveyed him steadily, seemingly aloof and lighthearted. But that eye, that gaze said otherwise. Taking down deep into his very being.

* * *

“ **DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA** **_WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?!_** _”_ And there it was. The clouds above crashed into an explosion of thunder, the roar of Bill’s voice echoing around the expanse in a deep, unbound, deathly baritone.

The triangle appeared out from the horizon in a flash, suddenly growing, swelling in a blink of an eye. The sky raged. The winds picked up. The choas in the slashed “X” broken in the fabric of reality churned. The creature’s whole gold pyramid body shifted, painted now in furious reds as his one darker than blood-red eye, splitting into unseemly layers, large and glowing and madly dangerous, fixed directly on his form. 

Dipper lay kneeling there in a bright circle of thick red, his own gaze flaming and alive, fierce and unbidden; not backing down to the horror that towered as if mountains over him, promising worse than any death imaginable. Gaze creeping into his skin. His eyes. His soul.

His breath came in hitches and pants, body exhausted; painted in the dirts and bruises, blood and injuries and lack of sleep these past weeks had given away to. And his whole body was coated too in even more than just the weariness and worthless struggle; a thick, dark red splashed over him thickly, painting every inch.

Yet still. Still, beyond it all, Dipper grinned at the monster. The demon. Fierce and horribly defiant, blood dribbling down his chin. He laughed. The teen laughed, and laughed, letting out a bellow that hit deep and heavy into his gut at the triumph. The irony. The defiance. The triangle above stared, motionless at that, a god above him in the darkening equally red sky, surveying his tiny form perched there against the shaking winds at the very top of a giant pyramid.

“ _Yeah_ .” he spoke, furiously, spitting out the words and raising a bloodied hand. In it was a deep, single triangle carved against the palm, shocking with beading red. “This is _checkmate_ , Bill.” He held the other’s massive gaze unflinchingly, filled with spirit. And something dark stirred inside him, furious with triumph and bloodied need. In a vicious second of the two meeting each other’s expression, he clapped both triangle carved palms together, shutting his eyes in that same fierce, triumphant smirk. This was it. This was _it._

“WH-WHAT!?” Suddenly Bill exploded, a frantic panic and doubt flashing over his gaze, “NO-! NO, YOU CAN’T--YOU CAN’T **_BE SERIOUS--_ **!!!” The voice boomed, holding a certain horrible, desperate denial to it. Bill’s hands fisted together, throwing up in that same frantic energy just to slam the two massive black fists onto the teen’s comparatively tiny form, to squash him, to annihilate him from this world.

But - _too late._ It was far too late.

Everything around him had already begun to glow a white hot yellow, spinning into a makeshift half bubble, shielding his form. 

Each red mark painting the ground around him springing vibrantly to life along with it, the marks on his skin following rapidly soon after, lighting up in a fierce combination of yellow and light swirling blue; an entire array of lines and markings and hieroglyphs brightening across the surface of pyramid-like mountainside he was set on top of. And as if a crawling, living thing, etched against him like glowing tattoos, blossomed the rest of the markings across his entire body and every marking spread out across the stone, until it came to meet at his forehead in a single carved line out of a circle with a line through it - a closed eye.

The giant black fists crashed above that light as if striking against an invisible barrier, richotting off it all at once. Shocked, Bill withdrew, clearly taken aback.

This was _it_.

Down below he could suddenly hear the familiar voice of his uncle call out. And with it Dipper bit down, filled numb with the anger and vengeance and relief, leaving him only feeling a single deep pang of guilt at his uncle’s cry.

...Sorry Uncle Ford.

“DIPPER! _MASON_!! MASON _,_ **_NO!!_** _”_

His eyes opened, just enough to glance behind him at the man standing some ways far below the giant mountain-like pyramid sculpture he had made this last stand on, the teen taking in his grief stricken, panicked teacher and uncle and mentor. The man that had taught him...really, really well these last five years actually. The kind of bond they had gained he couldn’t explain. He felt that pang deepen at the thought, at the adventures, the training.

Ford stared, and their eyes fixed on one another, trapped in a single moment of time. All that needed to be said was exchanged through that gaze. Grief. Complete disbelief. Sheer panic. 

And, Dipper’s, hard and clear - _‘This needs to be done, Uncle Ford. I’m sorry.’_

Meanwhile above, in a howling, furious scream of denial and tantrum, Bill’s form began to glow bright and vanish, ripped and wrenched slowly apart toward the circle piece by slivered piece. The massive triangle stared in shock at his form, bits of him being broken apart, taking his single iris one last time to Dipper. In another howl of denial and rage, the demon made to thrust a jet of blue flame at his position again, but just as he did, he vanished from the sky entirely, the flame hitting that invisible barrier and rolling off it as if it were nothing at all. 

Dipper shut his eyes again, feeling himself relax. Breathing into what was bound to happen next.

And--all at once--the golden light that Bill had been ripped into struck into his circle, swarming before turning on him in a furious wave, surging down and striking like a series of lightning strikes before swirling around in the circle of light; a vortex of colors; blues, reds and shocking yellows. A million pieces and images, every atom of energy from Bill’s form and existence burning and riveting through him - a trillion eons, an infinite reality after reality, subspace, ethera, rolled over his entire consciousness like a reeling nightmare. Anger and rage and manic, fierce, wildly beautiful madness _catapulting_ straight through every inch. He heard himself laughing. But it wasn’t-- _him_ .... But it...was. A manic, frantic, horrific laughter, bubbling, bursting from his mouth as if just in a desperate need to escape, to flee, to dominate. Everything was red. Somewhere, he was crying. Somewhere, his body was engulfed in heat. On fire. Somewhere he’d lifted into the sky, a twist of death surrounding him, blues and golds and reds everywhere. He was laughing. He was everything. And the cosmic rip of the universe. Dipper, Dipper Pines was lost, somewhere in the madness, the choas, the roaring encapsulation of _nothing_ and _everything_ and NOISE.

“YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU COULD DO THIS, PINE TREE!?! YOU BETTER GUESS AGAIN-- ** _NO ONE CONTROLS_** ** _ME_** **_HALF PINT!_** ” The last of the words held a deep, ungodly echoe to them, a rough horror-esque inhuman hollowness that sprang out from his own mouth to the surrounding space.

But even through it, the chaos, the riveting laughter, he had enough sense still. He could _still_ fight. He could still _see_ . And feel. And _remember._ He was...he Mason. He was _MASON._ Mason Pines. This wasn’t like last time. This wasn’t _over_.

Images spread, ripping into his head. Images of the town. Of his family. Of Ford and Grunkle Stan, staring into the sky in a picture of horror. Of Mabel. Of blood. Of stillness.

All at once, in a surge of emotion a golden shape of an outlined eye opened on his own forehead, brilliant and white hot.

And with every force of his being...every ounce of his energy...he reached out his arm in agonizing slow motion, fighting Bill’s control for everything he was worth. 

This _wasn’t over yet._

A blue flame sprang up and engulfing his arm in pure, unadulterated will, and he felt Bill’s shock. He forced open a half manic, half slit pupil eye, body drenched in sweat, before...struggling, fighting, and as he let out a roar of sheer defiance, Dipper snapped his finger. From where he was, it sounded deafening.

The rift opened behind him.

And in another furious snap, the world shook below. 

Everything around them began to fly apart and he could practically feel Bill forcing his own will over him, grappling furiously to take over. He couldn’t catch everything that was happening, couldn’t make it all out in the mind numbing chaos of it all, practically blacking out in the effort of remaining _sane_ and _whole_ and-and _aware,_ but unimaginable monstrosities flew, sucked wildly into the crack split wide against the open sky...and as Dipper floated against the wreckage (and he was floating, far above the pyramid now), the whirlwind of weirdness ripping from the land and into the void, he found his gaze tracking back down again toward Ford, the seals and imprints carved through his skin still glowing bright and vibrant and hot...

And in the moment their eyes met...Everything changed.

How it happened, he still didn’t _exactly_ know. Maybe it was a delayed part of the spell, a build up. Maybe it was the connection to his mentor, to _something_ tangible outside the madness of the warring internal struggle. Maybe it was that emotion, the shee defiance that brought him to this stage. But whatever it was, that eye at his forehead, winding and snaking into the other lines and symbols etched through his still glowing body, grew a deeper color, mixing in reds, golds and fierce blues, linking every line etched and painted against his skin. And.... _everything_ shifted, sudden and abrupt and vividly clear.

He could vaguely catch pieces and images of what happened next. Even looking back on it later it was honestly a desperate struggle of shadows, laughter, rage and glimpses of the chaos around and inside him. But somehow...in that moment, Dipper wasn’t himself anymore....and it was as if himself didn’t exist. But he wasn’t Bill, either. 

Somehow in a wrestle, desperate warring of minds, there was...someone else entirely floating against the sky where he once was. 

He remembered almost as if from a dream. The pain of it. The vague clarity. The all consuming **_power_ **. And that being, that person he then was in that moment the eye of light had opened full, had known exactly what he had to do in that moment. 

He floated. His entire aura changed. The chaos subdued. A gentleness shifting as the winds around them died, the storm coming to a still in every sense.

Ford and him locked eyes, taking each other in. With a far more settled, now calmed hand, he gave a last snap that sent a message burning like a strike of blue lightning into the ground in front of his uncle and him, him and Bill, together, as one, floating there. 

It was...odd. Floating in a new form of existence. A struggle, a barely sustainable balance, a fierce ripping of ying and yang rolling like a tide...a pushing and pulling that spiralled against him, inside him. Internally, a war of such a magnitude, Dipper somehow frantic and furiously holding the upper hand, but just barely against every power and nightmare Bill could conjure in his rage. 

And yet it clashed. Splashing and colliding together. Warring consuming. Death becoming life. Violence and hatred melding into its opposite. Somewhere closer to the surface...settling like a calm lake above the chaos of it all...a new being floated in that calm. A being, he could recall, very vaguely. One that swirled in manic insanity, otherworldly demonic brilliance of ageless time...and in that of himself. Dipper, his presence, somewhere in the mix. A collected, calm space of mortal humanity, red hots cooling with his deep icy blues...consumed in a fierce, manic, wildly instability to clash into his own entirety of collected ideals...tinging everything into a newer color; filling it too with a level of compassion, of understanding, of cool steadiness that wound, flowing through each other…

He was no longer Dipper. He was no longer Bill.

And in that abrupt understanding of himself was one simple idea that came to him: as the rift began to shut, as Gravity Falls began to settle into normality, as this form of both Bill and Dipper stared at Ford in calm, stark clarity... he floated gently backward toward the crack. Not breaking that gaze from Ford, the creature he now was brought himself to float slowly just beyond it, into the void.

Ford, muted into disbelief, stared, grief-struck.

And as he stared outward to catch that gaze of his mentor and uncle the crack began to finally close, knitting itself shut, him floating just behind it. Knowing it was over. Knowing this had to be done. Knowing. He could hear Ford’s cry explode from him at a distance, the furious desperation and denial of it ringing sharply through the air.

And the note remained where he’d burned it, engraving it into the stone before the older man.

‘IQ - I’M SORRY. IT HAD TO BE DONE. PLEASE TAKE CARE OF SHOOTING STAR. YOU WILL ALL BE OKAY. GOODBYE.’

The rift continued to shrink, the new, wild darkness of the void now swarming in all around him. The chill pressing in. The emptiness. The otherworldliness. And he held himself there in a calm monotone, a soft stillness, still his skin glowing in edges of yellow and blue and subtle reds, that light swirling in around his entire body like snakes dancing through a twister. His dim yellow eyes still remained slits, but lacking the joyful madness to rule them, the imbalanced fury dying instead in a pool of ice. Whoever, whatever he’d been then reached hands up, staring at them and from them back to the vanishing crack, taking his own existence in with a mute calm.

“Goodbye.” He whispered, a tinge of Bill’s surreal voice against it. Before staring back down at his hands once more.

And then, the rift shut with a final snap. And as soon as the rift vanished, the furious internal struggle let loose. Dipper had no need to hold that cage together. The internal, mental chains on them both vanished, the war had ended, the new entity was gone and with a loud crack, the two burst apart in a shock of yellows, blues and bright reds.

Dipper flew, crashing sideways into something very hard and solid. He heard the richotte of the tiny, furious triangle shooting off and colliding somewhere distant from him like that of a furious, streaking comet.

He lay there, breathing hard, shakily gasping for air, his whole mind drawing a frantic blank. Everything was numb. Everything was heavy. Everything was screaming in an overwhelming kind of exhaustion and deafening calm. 

In the following seconds of shock, staring ahead of him dumbly, he began to laugh, very weakly, collapsing heavy into the pile of whatever uncomfortable, solid objects lay beneath him.

“I did it…” He whispered soundly, pulling a very weak grin. And he chuckled in absolute, stupid disbelief. “I...I did it.”

Meanwhile, he heard Bill burst to life in a roar of fury. “No, NO, NO **NO, NO,** **_NO, NO NOOO!_ ** ” The dream demon roared, the thudding and clanking sounds signifying him slamming his tiny fists about in the dark. He let out a yell of absolute furious denial. “THIS CAN’T--THIS _CAN’T_ BE HAPPENING! THIS CAN’T BE **_HAPPENING_ **.” 

Dipper was too tired, too relieved to get up or react to the dream demon’s practically hyperventilating, enraged state. 

It didn’t even matter anymore. How could it? He’d done it. 

Nothing could happen now, nothing that would signify a loss. He could die. He probably would. But it didn’t matter at all. He’d saved the world. He’d saved Mabel. And Ford. And Grunkle Stan. Wendy. Soos. He’d saved Gravity Falls.

His eyes were heavy, but that grin still weakly in place. And he glanced upward to see the tiny streak of yellow now slamming his fists against the closed space where the crack had once been, crying out again in disbelief.

“ALL THAT TIME-- **_ALL THAT PLANNING!!_ ** **ALL THAT** **_WORK_ ** **!!** ” He continued pounding, griping at the air with his words, furious and letting loose with another, “ALL FOR NOTHING!!! **NOTHING** !!! **_AUUUUGH-_ **-” And a few more furious and futile pounds and bolts of blue flame, the triangle stared out at against the dark, breathing hard, glaring death and vipers into the solid block of nothing, eyes red, body a pulsing, dangerous black; seething from every core of his being. 

And it was soon after, Dipper in a heap, a disheveled, exhausted mess, staring at the other as the triangle began to deflate, his tiny shoulders slouching...beginning to sink downward. His knees hit solid black ground, fists still held up against the wall numbly, banging in futility. 

“How did this _happen…_ ” His voice was quieter now… “Hahah….” He broke out weakly, “Guess….guess you really got me, Pine Tree. Wow.” The voice was brighter, held in disbelief, still the fury and rage of endless time lingering before Bill, too, fell to the ground in defeat, sprawled out against the dark. Even despite the clear sentiment of rage, and despite his own expectations, Bill didn’t turn that anger and fury around at him and turn him into sludge in a furious rage. There was no attacking. No turning him into a thousand fingers. No nothing. Just silence. One that spread between them, thick and unending.

Dipper turned his gaze, quiet and solemn, but in a certain amount of wrapping relief, to the stretching dark above. Mixes of LSD blues and greens, like lines of energy stretched out, shooting through the nonexistent sky far, far above them. And, not knowing...not caring much in what to expect, or if he’d live this through to waking, he shut his eyes to the void...still smiling faintly in the dark. Into the silence of his success. All the confusion. The inability. All of it was over.

* * *

“You know...I do have to admit. You actually don’t look half bad covered **HEAD TO TOE IN SACRIFICIAL BLOOD,** Pine Tree.”

It was dark. Everything hurt. And by everything, he meant _everything_. God, what was...how had…?

The voice above was too chipper, edging still in a dangerous, otherworldly tone just beneath the surface.

Dipper tried to screw an eye open, hissing out and wincing weakly. Even that was painful. _Everything was painful._ How did everything suddenly become fifty shades of _pain?_ Seriously? Ugh. He had to groan internally at the reference. He’d been hanging around Mabel and her terrible novels too much. Awful. Just _awful_.

Dipper tried to sit up. But it was pretty useless, his body was not cooperating at all. He winced again, making another attempt at just gathering himself enough to pry his eyes open. Trying to work out how to do that much. 

As he opened his eyes for a second time to do just that, they landed on...darkness. Just black. And more black...Well. Alright. Great.

And, wincing again, he tried to sit up only to feel some kind of vertigo hitting him hard, causing everything to violently spin out of control, tilting on itself. He stifled a groan, stomach churning, shutting his eyes briefly to instead focus on his breath...which was a very good idea. Definitely a good idea. Great job, Dipper. Wait to go.

Christ. He tried again in forcing them open for a second attempt. Come on...come _on_...

Only this time in front of him, was something close and very yellow. Right there, staring him down with one large, peering eye.

He let out a sharp yell, scrambling back on instinct, crashing backward into something very solid just behind. Breathing hard and quick, he only just registered the stifled “ _ppffftt_ ”--which dissolved into a familiar burst of laughter erupting through the air.

“HAHAHAH, oooh Pine Tree. Always _SO AMUSING!_ ” The triangle, now that he was really getting a good look not a glow not just of yellow, but, as his eyes adjusted, taking in the slight blue aura as well, had his fists against where hips might be, rolling his eye to the side casually. Dipper did the only thing he could in the shock of it, frozen to the spot. He stared. And...stared some more, heart stilled and throat choked. The teen hesitated, glancing to the side in some small amount of panic, trying desperately to gather his wits.

“Um...I...what’s...what’s going on?” 

He honestly couldn’t remember. Everything was a blank.

Bill studied him for a moment before the dream demon sighed, looking bored and suddenly something of a bit frustrated, a cane appearing from nothing in a single twirl of his finger to be clasped into a dark, tiny hand.

“What does it look like? You won, kid.” He floated along, not seeming to consider too much, tone pretty short and to the point.

Dipper continued to look at the other, unnerved.

“Um...I...I what?” He asked after a moment, voice flat.

The dark continued to suck in around him at that statement and as Dipper forced his gaze carefully to try and figure out where he was, he made out the surroundings only just slightly in the soft blues and greens reflecting from far, far above. The soft light barely shimmered off the dark void about. Mounds and heaps of debris scattered around the length of the area...some of it...oddly familiar?

He made out pieces of buildings. A sign...from the old Greasy’s Diner? And half of that giant woodsman statue from town not a few feet away. The teen blinked, trying to get his mind back into gear. To place what the heck had even happened to get him here. His brain felt like a lead weight. His body a mess of pains he didn’t even realized _existed._ He grimaced at it, frustrated and lost.

Bill tsked, glancing his way in a bored, but pretty tense fashion. Something dangerous and only just suppressed reflected deep in his single eye, as if something in there was about to leap out and slaughter him outright in some unspecified horrific, and entirely nightmarish way. But instead the demon just floated there, turning his gaze to his hands as if to inspect nonexistent fingernails.

“I said _you won_ . Congratulations. Now we’re stuck here forever!! Great job, kid. Saved the world from the biiiiiiiig bad triangle. **BRAVO**!” He clapped dully and slowly, cane floating momentarily beside him and eye rolled to the side, sarcasm dripping in every word.

That was when, as he stared at the other, it all slowly came back to him.

Weirdmageddon. 

The world tearing apart at the seams. 

Bill rising through the sky in a pit of laughter, followed by nameless horrors that had flooded the streets. And him and Ford trying to stop it all, futily, for weeks. And...and Mabel...

As the images pounded into him he brought a sudden hand wildly, frantic to his face, clutching at his head while it all rushed him in a shock, “Oh god, oh god...oh _god_ .” Images and memories were crashing back to him at the power and speed of a train, slamming across his vision - from people being mutated, turned to stone and carted off to giant heads and mutated monstrosities. “I--we--...oh god, I...I _bound_ you?” He said, dumbly, the shock and horror in his voice sinking in hard. Images flashed again, briefly, of certain horrors, of blood and fierce, defiant determination. Of a bloodied Mabel...and everything he cared for ripping apart in front of him. The rage and desperation that followed.

That tense stare from Bill narrowed dangerously, growing tighter and colder, a flash of red crossing it as his barrage of memories went over his mind.

“You….did. Yes.” Bill said, voice clipped, eye still level, as if reading his very being. Dipper’s gaze rose up, part of his hand practically in his mouth in the nerves and frantic disbelief of it, trying to process it all.

“I...I defeated you?” He asked, straining to remember, his voice somehow smaller than before, riding on a sliver of hope, as if just to be certain of himself with his brain still reeling.

“ _BOUND_ me, sure. Defeated me?” The triangle laughed, “PLEASE! Dream on, kid. You couldn’t defeat a dirty sock thrown at your face.” And with a small snap, a giant sock fell right on his head from nowhere to prove the point. Dipper struggled, squirming beneath the giant, heavy cloth, gasping as he finally broke free of it. He glared, utterly bewildered, utterly nonplussed.

“Well...okay, fine, but...Doesn’t that mean...that I don’t know, I...I control you or...” He glanced to the side, grasping desperately, “Or something...?” The boy struggled to remember the ancient hieroglyphics and sanskrit he’d been working off of. Bits and pieces translated by Ford in a dark cave, taking in every single word his mentor had shared with him in hushed, frantic tones. Something about being able to bind Bill’s powers forever. Something about...grounding energy into him. Sealing him away.

Bill fixed him again with a very flat look, still tense, almost as if captured in a cold frustration, but the demon playing it all off as if bored. 

“Yeesh…! Are you SERIOUSLY trying to tell me you didn’t even _KNOW_ what you were doing _while_ you were doing it?” He tossed tiny arms into the air. “RIGHT. Typical. Of course I get taken down by Shorty-Mcshortstuffs and the kid doesn’t even _realize_ what he did!” He sighed, pinching the area where a nose might have been in unveiled aggravation, “Alright. Look, here’s the breaks, kid, so listen up. You didn’t just bind **_ME_**.” The triangle stretched out his arms, placing them behind his head as he floated idly on, still looking irritated. “You bound **_US_**. You messed with some PRETTY **HEAVY STUFF** , here. You combined our _souls_. To each other. You know. For **_eternity_** _._ ”

His whole body went cold, staring in stunned disbelief.

“.....Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Bill snapped, “Stuck together IN AN ETERNAL, ENDLESS CHAOTIC SPHERE AS REALITY TURNS TO DELUSION IN A PIT OF FEEBLE, INEVITABLE INCOMPREHENSIBILITY. So, ya know, THE **_USUAL_ **, except now we’re tethered together.”

A silence settled between them, and Dipper continued to just stare at the other, before slowly dragging his gaze back down to his hands.

Eternity.

He...remembered that. Sort of. Enough.

Briefly, when he’d been floating, amassed in a swarm of color and power and light...the him that he’d been then had understood everything. Enough to drag the both of them into this nightmare realm and trap them here together. To keep the Bill part of him from destroying everything. The him that was both him and Bill as one.

Originally though, all he’d known was that this spell, this ritual would stop Bill. And save everyone. Which...he kind of guessed it did. 

After a heavy beat of silence, Dipper took in a breath, firmly lifting his gaze.

“O...Okay then.”

Bill seemed to raise a brow, before his eye narrowed. “ _Okay?”_

“Yeah. If this...if this is the sacrifice that needed to happen to save Gravity Falls, than...that’s it.” He said in a certain form of calm, sure finality. And with that, the boy made to push himself up, but once again his body _would not_ cooperate. Dipper grimaced, hissing as he fell back to the pile of ruble.

“Ugh. _SERIOUSLY_ PINE TREE?!” The triangle whipped around, back to him in the air, sighing and massaging his head, clearly frustrated, “I REALLY hate ta say it, but honestly? This is the kind of thing that usually makes you so damn interesting, kid.” Red flashed at his eye, Dipper barely catching it, “ **_USUALLY_ ** , anyways. Not like this... If I were in the right kind of mind, I’d fuck you up FIVE WAYS TO HELL.” The demon promised him before rounding back, voice flipping suddenly back to it’s normal tone. “RIGHT - just so we’re clear, kid, this is how it’s going to work. Since clearly you know nothing about demon crytolomology” Bill reached down, prodding him in the chest hard, gaze narrowed fiercely, “We’re **_bound_ ** , and here, that means in **_every single way_ ** _._ If either one of us dies, we both die. And, LOOK AT THAT!” He gestured to Dipper, who in turn glanced down. 

He felt his heart pick up a pace, just now realizing his body was still also glowing very faintly...in the same colors and manner as Bill. Identical actually. A soft, blue and yellow tinge radiating very subtly from his skin. 

“You and I share EVERYTHING - energy, _auras_ , the dreamscape. So, in short, WE’RE ENTIRELY _SCREWED_ ! While we _can_ still live forever, _probably_ , there’s also a good chance that we can KICK THE BUCKET too! BECAUSE YOU’RE A FEEBLE, TEMPORARY MORTAL grasping at the ENDLESS VOID OF FUTILITY, CRAWLING INTO THE INEVITABLE ARMS OF THE GREAT COSMIC AFTER. And I’m an ETERNAL DEMONIC GOD beholden to the VAST HORRORS OF INFINITY. Together, that makes us...like some kind of... **_HALFLING FREAK_ ** _!_ ” He gestured between them, as if trying to convey the levels of fucked they truly were. Fuck. Dipper stared. And stared, feeling distant and oddly detached. This wasn’t the kind of binding spell he’d figured it was. It wasn’t binding Bill down, it seemed, so much as...what? Swapping their energies? Or…? Dipper grimaced. He really couldn’t say he knew. 

That wasn’t to say he was following exactly what these consequences were. He flipped his hand over, examining it, clear and uncertain.

“So...what...what does that _mean_ exactly? We share...auras? Energy...?"

At that, the other hit the top of his head with the cane, gaze hard and cold and him wincing.

“HEY-- _ow_ \--”

“When I said everything, Pine Tree, and I mean _EVERYTHING_ .” The demon sighed, “This isn’t just a normal binding spell you pulled off. Not that a _normal_ one would work on me, but hey!” He pulled his cane back, surveying the dark around. “Every latent magic of yours is shared between us, and every bit of mine too, for that matter...to...eh, well...an extent.”

Dipper frowned, studying the dark, voidless ground. “Okay. So...we share...magic? Energy? But--whoa, hold on a second. That spell I cast...the script said I would bind your powers down if I did it.” Gingerly, he made to poke the place on his forehead where that eye had opened up, bright and damning and fierce...but he couldn’t feel anything. Bill didn’t respond right away to that, floating in silence.

“Yeah, well. It kind of did. A good whopping chunk of my powers, for the _moment_ , are sealed from the _both_ of us. A little extra punch of _FUCK YOU_ to the cause. So hey, great job in that, kid, really did a number here.” He deadpanned, tossing a tiny black hand.

“No, wait, but you can still use magic. I just _saw_ you.”

“ _Most_ of my abilities, Pine Tree, _most_ , geez, it’s almost like you don’t even have two mangly orifices sticking out of that meatbag head of yours!” The other rounded, irritated.


	6. Into the Dipperverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is complicated and a bit dumb, but this is a crossover fanfic between LCypherED’s fic [Conspiratheory ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141743/chapters/9341529)and my own that I’ve been secretly writing for myself. It is literally just...like a fanfic of a fanfic...involving my other fanfic. Because I loved their fic so much?? In short I've reached the height of being a nerd. If you want to read what I have for my fic, go one chapter back, it's pretty short.
> 
> So basically Dipper from my universe binds Bill to save Gravity Falls from Weirdmagaden and traps the two of them in the multiverse, though the results are a bit varied. 
> 
> LCypherED’s is just straight up fantastic and perfectly written, but basically in their fic Dipper does something similar, with very different results, and binds Bill to himself and his own life force while remaining in Gravity Falls. Also I’m just going to keep linking LCypherED’s fic because frankly it’s beyond fantastic, and such an inspiration. A real classic and frankly I had to write this just to get more of it in my system. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is just...also old. And 100% for my love of LCypherED’s Conspiratheory fic. 100%. And for it's unfinishedness.
> 
>  **Relationships:** BillDip x 2  
>  **Warnings:** None

He screamed. Nothing made sense. Nothing but a wild whirl of terrifying pain and colored shades of flashing darkness - turmoil, a distinct, wild almost _gleeful_ agony he couldn’t place, and the very cosmos of existence pressing in and ripping him apart and building him back together over and over and over again. 

His yell rang out, ripping through the void of blues and greens and some deeply flowering, dark reds, the inner and outer of flesh and bone and dust spiraling through and all around them; the teen clutching instinctively with whatever sense he had to the tiny dream demon **_stupid_ ** enough to get them into this damn mess to begin with. And then all at once, in a rolling, sickening and spinning sensation gravity took hold and he was _falling_ , landing in a massive heap on solid ground with a loud thud. As himself. Whole and untouched and very clearly back to normal.

Dipper felt dazed. Staring with panicked, labored breath in a tangle of him and the triangle demon caught somewhere between his arm and other shoulder, eyes wide and adrenaline pumping a course of rhythms through his hammering, horribly beating heart.

“WHOOO---! WHAT A _RUSH!_ ” His companion burst out suddenly, throwing his black noodle-like fists in the air. “Boy, it’s not everyday EVERY MOLECULE OF YOUR EXISTENCE GETS REARRANGED INTO A FLIGHT OF COSMIC HORROR!!” He turned a bright and eager eye toward Dipper, clasping his hands together. “We gotta do _that_ more often, kid!”

Dipper groaned loudly, detangling himself from the other forcibly, trying to get himself _firmly_ back to reality.

“I-I CANNOT believe you, Bill!” He gasped, yelling in frustration, tossing himself from the other and tumbling to the side against padded floor as everything, still spinning, came slowly back together. “I _CANNOT_ believe you! You could’ve gotten us **_KILLED!_** You SHOULD’VE gotten us killed!” He ranted furiously, throwing a hand upward in an explosive protest.

“Hahaha, LIVE A LITTLE, kid! We made it out alive, didn’t we?” The other chirruped carelessly, nudging him in the face with a tiny elbow and floating in the air above him like a horribly annoying pixie or some kind of...floating…dumb...ugh, triangle _thing_. 

God. 

His brain was far too messed up to work up a good insult, Bill floating over him, seemingly painted amused at his attempt either way. Damn him for being able to read his mind.

“BARELY!” He snapped back, swatting at him like some kind of dysfunctional cat and missing as the demon avoided said swats the couple of times with ease.

That was just about the time when the two realized they weren’t alone, as a very abrupt, drawn and very weirded out, “Uuuuuh……?” broke through the air.

The two tore their gaze from one another in the heat of bickering, both lifting their eyes up to make out a single figure. Against a bed. In a very earth like, very not nightmare realm looking average bedroom. And not just anyone sitting there, book in hand, piles of papers scattered along the mattress and desk-table beside. But…

“What.” Dipper spoke dull and in sheer, flat disbelief, turning his gaze to make out...another...him? Another him. With the same eyes, same hair, same weird nose and face…but human. Normal. And more than that...beside his replica was...wait, _another Bill_? 

He glanced between the yellow, softly glowing gold and blue triangle demon at his side, to another floating in a sitting position not too far off, definitely not glowing, one leg crossed along another, a magazine in hand that clearly read _“HOTTIE OR NOTTIE?”_ in pink, flourished lettering clasped in his hands that had more glitter on the cover than you could possibly shake a fist at. 

The four stared at each other. Dipper’s mind going blank.

“What.” Dipper said again in the clear silence. “....Is this...are we…” Dipper looked in nervous alarm between his Bill and to the other two, glancing back and forth between them in repetition, “Is this...some kind of...horror...mirror...dimension or...or are they going to turn into...memory bombs...or like, clones from an alternate reality possessed by demonic alien spirits from another dimension's future or…or...?” He looked helplessly to his companion, struggling along for an answer as he spoke, mind flying to the horrors they’d already spun through again and again within the last number of years bound together, one cosmic horror-realm to the next. But his triangle companion just floated off, bringing a finger to scratch at a nonexistent chin, surveying the two carefully and of course, completely, entirely ignoring him. He glared in irritation at that.

“Huh.” Bill said, a bit brightly, though also somewhat curiously, one eye flickering between second him and second Bill. 

The other Bill slowly closed his magazine and took them in as well.

“Well. Would ya look at that.” Other Bill proclaimed briskly.

“Alright. Would _someone_ tell me what’s going on here!?” At that, he shut his mouth in an instant, after realizing his exasperation had been mirrored _exactly_ by the other him, both of them shutting their traps and staring at one another in a kind of alarmed shock.

“Exactly what it looks like, Pine Trees.” Other Bill said casually, clearly looking amused at the exchange. 

Well, _that_ certainly cleared things up. He shot a glare at his Bill, trying to promptly urge him to explain.

His Bill glanced down at him, rolling his eye and snapped his finger calmly. 

A blue flame coalesced into the image of a room with a million tiny walls, before zooming into a space of just a single one. 

Between the walls were two miniature Bills and two miniature Dippers (and he wasn’t about to overlook the stupid tongue sticking out of his mouth or the little x’s over his eyes) and after a moment, a hole appeared against the wall, one of the pair falling through in to the other. 

“Alternate reality, kid, there’s infinite numbers of ‘em. Check it out! Means alternate selves! And…” He considered his counterpart curiously, before springing back in the air with a loud laugh. “Hoooo boy! Looks like _this_ Pinecone did a reaaaaaal number on me in this dimension.” He laughed loudly, “BOY and here I thought _I_ had it bad!” He continued to laugh, rolling an eye to the side in a kind of amused mirth.

Rather suddenly, a chill filled the air at that, striking down between the four of them in the small room.

God...if Dipper could count the ways and times Bill managed to shove his foot straight into his mouth and nearly get them killed...sometimes he seriously hated that tiny triangle.

He hesitated, watching as the other second Bill’s gaze seemed to narrow in a very familiar, dangerous expression that had not once, _ever_ led to _anything_ remotely good and then back to his other self, who seemed...embarrassed? Conflicted? Already that tension pulled in the air like a viper. He glanced nervously to his own triangle demon with a harder, warning expression. Dumping in on alternate selves in a new reality or not, this was probably not a good first impression. Or a good way to get through this whole mess in one viable piece.

Fortunately, the other Dipper seemed to have some sense to plow past that horrible tense awkwardness and held out his hands in a stopping motion, “Hold on, hold on, just wait a second. You’re...so you’re me? From...like another _reality?_ ” He turned to other Bill as if to make sure he’d gotten it down correctly. “And...that’s another you. From another reality.” He clarified, pointing between them as if to be sure. “You’re...telling me there’s more than one reality. With uh. With _us_.” He asked flatly.

“Yep.” Other Bill said, scratching the magazine against a pointed corner of his head. “Eh. Kinda fuzzy on why they’re here though, to be honest. Say, looks like your Pine Tree managed to mess you up good too, actually…!” Other Bill floated in closer, a cheer in his voice, tapping a finger against the ever-present glowing blues and yellow hues from their bodies, nipping off a sliver of light as if to inspect it between his fingers.

His Bill shrugged casually, gently hovering closer down beside him, “Heheh, yeah. Kid’s a fucking **PAIN IN MY ASS** , but heck! Sure beats...well, come on. Whatever this is.” He gestured at the other pair. “Man did you get it _raw_ , me.”

Dipper was in a position to elbow the other roughly in the side, to which Bill let out an exclamation, glaring back, clearly affronted. “ _WHAT_ . It _DOES_ . Look at these two? You and I might be BOUND IN THE COSMIC MOLECULAR RESTRAINTS OF CHAOTIC MIND AND SOUL, kid, but this is a _real_ nightmare. And I’D KNOW!! Other Pine Tree’s got other me good by the short ones over there.” He gestured, “Guy can’t even connect to the outer cosmos, realm of nightmares, magic of the other sayers, **nothing**!” He paused, squinting to consider, “Yeeeesh. Just...what, looks like...Pine Tree’s latent magic?” And the triangle bust into what seemed a belly laugh, if he had one, “HAH! GEEZ, BUDDY!! Like squeezing water from a DEAD MUTATED BABY SKULL, AMIRITE.”

Oh boy. He winced slightly as another long moment stretched out along the room in that same subtle kind of dark anger, and Bill looked over to him, moving his hands in the air as if to push the point. “It’s funny because you’re _useless!_ ”

Dipper gave a mental groan and glared in return. Frankly he half expected this to blow out very, very badly from the returned tension and hard expression other Bill harbored...but to his surprise, other Bill eventually just shrugged back casually, looking somewhat awkward and waving a hand in their direction pretty dismissively, even with that anger lingering beneath his steady gaze. His other self remained a bit tense as well, averting his gaze from them uneasy and awkward. “Yeah, well, is what it is. Can’t do much about it now, can I?” 

Dipper frowned at that. 

...Huh. Unexpected. Actually, very unexpected.

Still, he felt himself relax slightly at the ease of the earlier tension in the room. Last thing they needed was to have another Bill at their throats...He didn’t like the idea of being on some kind of realm outside the multiverse with his first act being some kind of magical fistfight with _themselves_ no less. Heck, did his and Bill’s magic even work here? If they were in fact, outside the nightmare realms? 

And...wait.

And then, catching up with himself at a pause, he abruptly furrowed his brows. “Hey--wait a second, why is other Dipper Pine Tree, but I’m still Pinecone?” He turned to Bill, voice suddenly also slightly affronted. And the other flicked his nose indifferently, floating back upward as if the question hadn’t even been demanded. 

“Anyways, this here was just...well. Probably an important mistake. But still a mistake!” Dipper watched as Bill was already bringing out that damned tiny wristwatch, playing with it. “BUT, lucky us. This work of terror and beauty will be fueled and ready to go in NO TIME AT ALL! Just needs to collect enough power, and we are _OUT_.”

Ugh. Great. He didn’t want to consider what that meant. So...he didn’t.

Dipper climbed to his feet, brushing himself off, “Uh...sorry other Dipper. You know. For dropping in like this.” He said, awkwardly. 

“Uh...sure. No--I mean...It’s fine.” His other replied uneasily, glancing at his own Bill, conflict read all over his face. Man. He’d only been here a few minutes and he could already sense the connection the two shared. It was frankly...weird. He raised a brow, feeling uneasy. Seriously, what was with those two? Dipper caught the silent glances and hidden conversations pretty clearly. 

_‘You know, I think they’re talking to each other. About us.’_ He thought his own Bill’s way, feeling very off balanced about seeing that same connection out and in person. And also, he and Bill didn’t even really... _do_ that. At all almost. Not that they couldn’t, but…

He glanced to his Bill, who was still floating, completely unperturbed, returning his thoughts with a dismissive, _‘Eh. Whatever floats their boat, kid.’_ And allowing his pupil to switch to an old cartoon looking boat, just to annoy him, and possibly spell out their own secret conversation to the duo opposite. God. For an all knowing cosmic demon of terror, Bill could really be a petty weirdo sometimes.

“But how...exactly did you guys get here, anyways?” That question brought him from his sudden conflicted feelings on the matter, and instead, to drift back to the very answer of that question. Boy. The long, long answer. He sighed, bringing a hand to drag against his face and grimacing.

“You know, I’d _reaaally_ rather not talk about it.” He admitted heavily. That was definitely a road left best untraveled in this moment. He glanced again at Bill. “But uh, looks like we’re out of here soon enough….? Maybe?”

The other waved him off dismissively as if to confirm, still messing with that super tiny wristwatch.

“Sure thing, kid! Except. Well. Looks like it’ll be the same kind of trip as last time. BUT HEY, ALL THE BETTER, RIGHT! HERE WE GO!”

Dipper stiffened at that, climbing to his feet and just staring. Just like--wasn’t that watch supposed to be connected to _realities?_

“Oh no.” He groaned loudly, taking a step back and striking his hand through the air. “NO! No. Not that again, Bill. I _mean it_.”

“Yep!” Bill preened, looking way... _way_ too excited for this to turn out well.

“No, no, no, no. _No_ . No, we’re not--” He began frantically, considering his option “There _HAS_ to be another way! You _SAID_ it was just **_one_ **tim-” But before he could really protest, Bill pointed the watch down, and a sudden rushing portal erupted from the ground; spinning and spiraling with aimless faces, screams and wails rushing out from it as if it were the pits of hell itself. In a way it was. Or, well, where the myth had started from, at the very least.

‘NO! NO, we’re **_NOT_ ** **\--** ” 

“SEE YA OTHER PINE TREE! OTHER ME!!! Oh right, and hey--” He abruptly grabbed a fistful of Dipper’s hair, wrenching it out in a quick pull. Dipper yelped in surprise, the pain shocking through him, and more than just from the hair, casting a dark, deeply confused glare straight into the triangle with a loudly affronted, “ _HEY--_!” Before a blue flame entirely engulfed the small wad. 

“Here ya go. A little gift. FROM ME!” He tossed the flame like a ball toward other Bill. “That’ll be some of our life force. Maybe ya can do something with it! Beats depending on Dipass over there for _EVERYTHING_ . HAH!” And he wiped an invisible tear, “What a fucking riot.” And before Dipper could protest even _more_ , or ask about that new dumb, bullshit nickname, the tiny triangle grabbed a hold of his arm and, with surprising force for something only the size of his own head, the triangle thrust the both of them into the screaming nether dimensions of the darkest of the dreamscape. Dipper went in flailing and screaming, of course. Pretty guaranteed at this point.

The other two stared blankly, and Dipper only just caught his alter’s shocked expression before he vanished entirely into the void.

It was exactly the same as before. Just as horrific. Just as nightmare fueled. All manners of hellscape rushing and swirling and tearing into them, ripping everything apart. He was screaming one moment, laughing another, brought to a whole dimension of other weirdness and fierce, mad, horrific ability. His entire body felt like it was on fire in a second, as if ice another, burning and freezing over and over as the flashes of nightmares seemed to course around in spiraling terror. Heads and body parts rearranged around him, ghostless faces converge, spiraling. Conscious and unconscious spiraled in and out. The shape of his existence twisted and melted and turned. Whisps of blackness, mutated things and bodies spiraling throughout it. All of it was a vortex of wild confusion, endless horrors and manic, masochistic fury.

And in god knew how long or not how long, suddenly, again, he was in the grasps of actual normality, falling freely through actual gravity. Landing with a loud thunk onto solid, beautiful ground, real air around him, the teen gulping it down as if it were the last thing he’d ever have; giving him something apart from the wild screaming horrors that had just surrounded every inch of them.

God. Thank _GOD_.

He clung to whatever was around him in a petrifying tight hold, clinging onto it for dear life, eyes wide, skin pale and drenched in cold sweat. God. They really...really... _really_ needed to stop doing that. The thing he’d happened to grapple onto apparently turned out to once again be _Bill_ . Absolutely unaffected, the triangle laughed loudly, throwing his arms up from beneath him, “WHOOO!!” He cheered in a rush. “Boy, **_what_ ** a ride! That’s sure one way to lose your proverbial lunch!!!” He beamed, turning to Dipper and ruffling at his hair. “Awww, you’re petrified! Kid, that is _adorable_.” He chimed far too fondly, chuckling and patting at his cheek. Dipper started, flailing at that and letting the other drop, to which again Bill laughed and floated upward.

Dipper remained, turning to clutching himself now where he was, grimacing hard and glancing up in a disheveled nightmare of a heap.

“Y-yeah.....really...just really glad you liked it, Bill.” He grated, glaring daggers upward to the other, breath coming in heavy, feeling actually really about ready to lose his lunch. Not to mention his _mind_. Christ.

“Hah, don’t worry Pinecone. You’re not going to lose your mind.” The other dismissed with a wave, “Or, well! Not more than the usual, kid. Have you _been in your head?_ Boy, and they say _I’m_ crazy.” He enthused. 

Dipper continued to lay there, glaring up at the other heavily. God. _God_ he really hated Bill sometimes.

“PSSH, yeah right! You _love_ me.” The other waved a hand down at him as if it were clearly obvious and not even worth mentioning. “ANYWAYS, looks like we’re in some kind of...forced institution for the human brood! Huh, kinda weird.”

“I--sorry, what?”

“A SCHOOL.”

Dipper finally dragged his gaze away from Bill, and with the very real risk of throwing up, forced himself to sit up.

An empty hallway greeted him, lined wall to wall with lockers and adjoining doors...presumably which led to classrooms. He rubbed at the back of his neck, sighing while trying to take this new information in.

“Alright. So uh. Another earth? Or...reality, I guess?”

Bill considered, floating about. He tapped at one of the lockers. With a shock of blue light, it swung open. “Hmmmm. Hey!! Check it out.” He brought out a fistful of pencils, promptly thrusting them eraser first into his own eye. “HAHAH!! CHECK IT OUT!...I’VE GOT PENCILS FOR AN EYE!!”

Dipper groaned far too loudly, rubbing his hand to slide down his face. “Will you _stop that_.” He demanded tersely, dragging himself to his feet, before just lovely, being hit with another overwhelming fit of nausea. He managed just barely to keep it down, collapsing slightly against a very convenient trash can, still casting a disheveled glare at the other.

“You know. It’s kind of _hilarious_ how you still get sick when you don’t even need to eat anymore. Kinda a bad idea to still be holding on to _that much humanity_ , kid.” The other pointed out flatly, floating down in his half pencil glory. Dipper was actually really just glad Bill hadn’t simulated blood or burst eyes in the involvement of that act at this point. He didn’t think he could handle even _more_ gore right now. “Hey sure thing, Pinecone. Annnnyyything for you.” The dream demon teased, clearly reading his mind and poking at him just to be rewarded again with a slight irritated swatting at.

“And for your _information_ , I happen to _like_ my humanity.” He bit back at the other.

“PSH. Humanity. Who needs that when you’re an immortal all powerful dream demon? Feel lucky, Pine Cone, not very many people get the chance for that. And by not very many, I mean **NONE**.”

Before he could get into it again with the demon and snap back, all at once a voice erupted down the hall.

“DIPPER!?”

The two whirled around, Bill still half a face full of pencils, him still clutching the trash can for dear life.

A girl Dipper had never seen in his life stood there in shock. She was...well, about his height, with square rimmed glasses, long auburn curly hair, clutching a few books to her fashionably sweatered chest. She wore a small blue skirt that seemed a bit dated, but definitely cute, and really beyond the awkwardness and slight timid nature of her posture and demeanor, she seemed to be...well, actually...huh. Very pretty. Really, way, _way_ out of his league...with a kind face and actually more timid, gentler eyes than he might have expected for that fact.

“Uuuuuuuh. Yessssss?” He squinted off, grinning a bit awkwardly, mind on kickstart to how he was going to save face in this situation.

“What--what are you _doing!?_ You can’t--” She glanced between him and Bill in sheer, flat disbelief, the other who was pulling half the pencils out as if to get a better look at the girl. (They both knew he could see just fine either way, actually). “You can’t _bring_ your demon friend out here!” Still looking shocked, she burst out with a, “And...oh gosh, what’s with your eyes? And...what...skin?” Dipper turned an anxious gaze from her to the soft aura glow of blue and yellow from his body, back to Bill, who just shrugged at him in response.

“Um…well, I….” But before he knew what was going on, the girl rushed over, pulling him to his feet properly, opening her backpack and, to his utmost surprise, shoving Bill haphazardly into the bag. Bill let out an exclamation of “HEY-WHAT THE--” But was abruptly cut short as she zipped it in a panic. She cast her eyes around the empty hall, letting out a hushed,

“You are _so_ lucky I came early.” And with that admonishment, she dropped the bag into his chest, started to pull off her sweater over her head. “I...I don’t know what to do about your...glowing, but. Maybe this will help.” And before he knew what was happening she was taking the bag and thrusting the large, light orange, clearly girl’s sweater over his head. He let out a muffled sound of protest, but it was buried in her clear efforts to cover him up. “I just. I can’t _believe_ you. I mean I know we’re on a tight time table here...and I _know_ things have gotten kind of crazy recently. But you can’t have him here in that form in public like this.” She continued ranting on, roughly and haphazardly pulling the sweater down with a strength and swiftness that quite honestly surprised him.Eventually his head popped through it, and he gasped for air, struggling to get his arms through the orange sleeves while she helped him along.

He stared at her, feeling _incredibly_ awkward. He glanced to the bag as she again shoved it into his arms.

“Here, hold onto this.” And she unzipped the first pocket, drawing out some sunglasses. At which point she pushed them onto his face, pausing only a second to consider him anxiously. She grimaced slightly. “Okay. It’s...not perfect.” She admitted uneasily, “But it’ll just have to do. Listen. The next period I’ll need my bag is Physics, so...you know, you can just bring it back to me then. I’ll borrow a pen from my friend next period, it’ll be fine.” She sighed, tossing a hand through her falling curls while nibbling the corner of her lip, radiating uncertain and uneased. “Just...look. Be careful. Okay?” She seemed a bit smaller in that moment, as if trying to shoulder something far outside her own weight and sighed. “...I just. I never want _anyone_ to have to go through what I did with that demon friend of yours. And...listen, just make sure Bill’s a human again next time he’s wandering around. Okay?”

“A _HUMAN--_ !?” Came Bill’s muffled voice, astonished and somewhere between _entirely_ too curious and also quite a bit disgusted. But it the kind of disgusted Dipper was far too familiar with in the other. The kind a little kid might get when they saw some kind of roadkill along the road and were eager to veer over and start poking it with a stick. Really more a kind of very morbid, eager fascination that fit in all too well with the dream demon’s MO.

Before either of the two could actually act or properly respond, a bell rang out through the hallway.

The girl sighed, glancing away tensely.

“...Alright, I got to go.” She took her blue eyes steadily to meet back to Dipper’s, expression short and serious. He couldn’t stop the blush creeping at his face. “Be careful, Dipper. And…” She hesitated, as if entirely uncertain of herself for the next part, “You too, William.” Before reaching out and hugging Dipper firmly. She took a breath, moving down to grab her textbooks that had fallen earlier in the panic, before bringing them back to her chest and scurrying off, only just catching Dipper’s eye in a single soft warning as she went.

Dipper on the other hand just stood there, like an idiot, confused, bewildered, and of course now sporting a very girly knitted sweater and holding a school bag full of Bill.

“Uhhhhhh.” He asked after a long moment, “Did she just call you _William?_ ” He asked blankly, prompting the other with a sharp prod to the bag in his arms.

“Did she just say I was a _human?_ ” Bill inquired from within, shuffling about inside curiously.

And in that next moment a rush of students came piling out through the halls. Dipper only just managed to avoid them, bringing his back up against the wall to allow the chaos to filter through.

Oh boy. Ohhh boy.

He looked around the hall.

He was _not_ familiar with high school. Middle school? Fine. But high school? Yeesh. Even when he had been on his earth, in his own reality, Uncle Ford had been the one basically homeschooling him alongside their constant research into the supernatural. Give him a pack of harpies, a nuclear ion taser and a kelpie nest and he was fine. Heck, give him any number of scientific algorithms or mathematical problems, he’d muddle his way through. But this?

“Guess we should...um...get out of here?” He asked the bag in his arms, “Not that I don’t feel bad about taking that girl’s stuff...”

“Pssh, she’ll be fine.” Bill dismissed easily, but seemed to agree on the getting out of there part, from the tone. “Still gotta figure a way to the next phase, right, kid?”

Right. That was...right. His mind shifted, unwanted back to their own dilemma, unease working its way back into his mind. Saving parts of the multiverse from whatever that nightmare and chaos had been recently took priority right now. He could still see it, a vision of horrors, the desolate wastelands replacing the once booming, open fields of life (and strange oddities that you could maybe call some version it), the stretches of silence, the absense of space, of time, of feeling, of touch. He could see the markings, the clues. A triangle etched in gold, alongside that of a pine tree, his pine tree; the same image on his hat and on Bill’s old wheel. Underneath it were cryptic messages, foriegn symbols, neither of which he, nor shockingly Bill, could decipher. It was a miracle they’d been able to track down the Axolotl, or a form of communication with them; a miracle they had even been able to decipher enough to give them some idea of where to look to restore the balance in that reality. Leaving them floundering through the multiverse, leaving them with this. Still running, fleeing from masses of monsters and creatures out for Bill’s (and therefore his) head, strangling into a realm of nightmares to pin down the missing fabrics of reality. The orbs that were strong enough to heal even the most damage aspects of space.

Because saving their multiverse, their dimension, also meant saving their earth. And their Gravity Falls. Bill and him got along alright by now, or at least, kind of. In a way that defied all common sense and reason and...well, sanity. Living bound and tied to someone for years at a time did that. But even so, a deeper kind of temporary pact between him and Bill had been forged on this to set the universe right, stop whatever was rampaging in the netherlands, and save everything from some kind of imminent doom. Like some wildly demented, horribly dumb version of the Sibling Brothers, the two were a packaged pair of actual mystery duos taking on the case. 

Dipper swung the bag around to slip onto his back and started to squeeze his way through the students, glancing down the halls for a clear sign to the exit.

It took some scurrying through the different halls before he finally spotted an exit sign at the end of a fork near the cafeteria. “ _Finally_.” He breathed out in relief, scurrying passed a few more lingering, wayward students. Before, all at once, a voice broke out against the hall, stopping him in his tracks.

“HEY FUCKFACE!” Dipper grimaced. It was _definitely_ directed at him. Of course it was. _Just_ his luck. He turned slowly, wincing at the over burly, far-too-broad-and-built looking teen storming his way. The boy screamed “popular jock” in a way that Dipper could not understand outside those horrible B-plot High School films Mabel used to binge watch. Was that...a real stereotype? Weren’t those kind of things in existence purely to create conflict for that underdog stereotype main character?

Apparently not, unless he, Dipper, was that character as the other suddenly grabbed a fistful of girly orange sweater and lifted him in the air. Man if he were, what a riot _that_ would be.

“You _BETTER_ have some explaining to do, idiot.” He snapped, raising a fist back. “After what happened with _Lee_ .” Oh man. Seriously?! He was getting bullied in another dimension high school!? What the hell...this was worse than the multiverse. At least there, the weirdness was justified. And not walking out of a stereotype. Hell, he wasn’t even technically a _teen_ anymore, well...alright, maybe physically, but...well, actually time itself was different and maybe possibly even nonexistant in the multiverse too BUT he was sure it had been _at least_ two years since his eighteenth birthday. In a human, linear way, anyways. Which made his point stand.

“I--uh, wait--” He started in a rush, instinctively gathering a bloom of dark energy, but realizing all too quickly that blasting the other with a wall of chaos was probably out of the question in this situation as the other shoved him harder up against that wall, him squeezing his eyes shut, _all_ too prepared for a solid fist to the face, another voice rounded on the both of them.

“WHAT the _hell_ is going on here!?”

He flinched, cracking open a single eye to peer out at a...um, girl? Over a ways out. 

She stood there, bulky and clearly pissed, arms crossed, glaring fire through the burly boy’s head holding his weight up against the wall. The other let him drop to the floor with a thud, scowling.

“Dominic.” Thug-ski McGee snapped in a low growl. “You seriously want to get in on this? Or you want to make a smart choice and _walk away_ , you faggot?”

Another point for stereotype name calling. Geez, where exactly had he and Bill even ended up?

The girl narrowed her eyes dangerously. “It’s _Dominque,_ and hey, look here, I’m not going anywhere. You want to pick on Dipper, you can just go to _hell_ , Chad. Lord knows I’ve been waiting far too long for a chance to kick your teeth in.” And true to her word, her posture and stance changed to someone _very_ serious and _very_ ready to throw the hell down. Yikes. Whatever “Chad” had done (and really, Chad?) clearly had hit this new stranger in a very real way.

Chad surveyed her, looking between her, and again carefully over his shoulder at Dipper’s crumpled form. After a pause he grit his teeth, turned fully to Dipper, shoving him hard against the wall, eyes dangerous and dark and cold, “This. This isn’t over, Dipass. You _hear_ me, you little shit?” And with one last furious shove to the shoulder, he stormed off in a rage, flipping Domique off along the way and running into her shoulder all-too-rudely.

 _‘Hey! Did he just steal my nickname?’_ Came Bill’s voice, who had been quiet as of up until now

 _‘Yep. It’s really not that creative. You should_ definitely _be insulted.’_ Dipper thought, deadpanning, in response to which Bill audibly snorted from the bag.

The girl looked livid, as if every ounce of her was willing to rush off and return the favor, beat him to a pulp (as much as she was able), but she sucked in a few calming breaths, seeming to try and simply steady herself instead.

“Yiiiiikes.” Dipper finally said aloud, gaze following the walking stereotype without remorse. That caught the strange girl’s attention, and she turned to him, rounding on him suddenly.

“ _What_ are you doing here, Dipper!? Not that I’m complaining, but _seriously_ , taking Chad on alone like that?” She pinched her nose, shaking her head, locks of frustrated hair springing subtly in the movement. “Honestly though? I can’t even _really_ blame you.” She relented, deflating slightly, “I would’ve done the same thing.” She sighed, “But you’re fucking lucky. If I wasn’t worried about you right now, I would’ve shoved my foot so far up his ass he would’ve walked sideways _forever_ …” The other grit out, shooting a dark look in the direction Chad had headed off towards and sounded like she really and actually _meant_ it. She moved toward him, peering over his form as if for obvious injuries, before stilling. “Um, also...hey, what’s with the sunglasses?” She looked over him, narrowing her eyes for a moment, “...Hold up. Have you been smoking weed, Dipp?”

“- _What_?” Honestly the whole thing was so far out of his whole train of thought right now, he just kind of stood there as if hit by a brick, and she burst out laughing,

“Wow. Nice one. Just, you know. Maybe lose the shades and get some eyedrops next time. Hella suspicious.” And she grinned at him companionably, clearly not judging. Not that he could say anything to that. The only “drugs” he’d ever done had involved a really bad turn of luck while he and his uncle were investigating a sea of strange, mystical mushrooms some years back in Gravity Falls. That had been a bizarre night for the both of them. Before he could utter a response to that however she turned heel, pulling him by the shoulder and along the hall. His gaze moved desperately over his shoulder toward the exit, looking back to her somewhat helplessly. “Listen. If you’ve got a free period you should help us out. The LGBT room still really needs to be cleared out. The janitors got most of the graffitti, but it’s still kind of a wreck.”

Graffiti?....LGBT room? His mind raced, moving one place, one spot to another; trying to keep up.

Hold on. Was the Dipper in this reality _gay?_

Something settled like a brick in his stomach.

And he heard a mental snort, and a pressing, amused, _‘Right._ **_This_** _reality. Hahah.’_ inside his head.

He gave his backpack a backward jab with his elbow.

Dominique didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe care. God, maybe he was just flat out weird here.

A room quickly approached, and she practically dragged him inside, even with his starting protests of, “Hey, _what_ I--hold on, actually--” But it seemed for moot as all at once he found himself planted right in the middle of the room, overlooking a vast mess of broken objects, cabinets and a long table. He frowned as she hurried around, 

“They just released the room back...But don’t worry.” Some resolve seemed to steel in Dominique's voice as she scurried around, gathering up pieces of what appeared to be art supplies and cardboard. “We’re not giving up so easily. Every time they hit us, we’ll just _get back up_.” And at that, her voice had a certain unwavering strength to it that Dipper couldn’t help but admire a bit. It couldn’t be easy, being the other girl’s shoes, that was for sure. And apparently, he thought, she wasn’t just talking about the LGBT room. Or the graffiti. A sheer glint of determination, the kind built through real hardship, and overcoming that hardship shined through her gaze.

Dominique was strong. In a lot more ways than one, and it showed.

He cleared his throat. “So um...someone...messed this place up, huh...?”

Fuck, he was awkward. It had honestly been a long time since he’d dealt with regular humans. Even impressive, abrasive ones that sort of reminded him of a more upfront version of his sister in a strange, super surreal way. Not that that was an avenue he was going to trek down right at this moment. Nope. No thoughts of that topic in _this_ noggin. Better to just think about the endless and inevitable destruction, death and despair if he didn’t get his act in gear. Right. Good call, Dipper. You genius.

Dominique tossed him a strange look, seeming to pause for a moment, clearly nonplussed. “Uh...yeah. Remember? First the sign, then the room…?” She shook her head, “Lee just confessed to the Art room graffiti, but...well, he wouldn’t do something like this.” The two of them turned and surveyed the damage. He could make out fresh paint over what had probably been slur words or crude images of some kind maybe. “I’d bet _everything I own_ that it was Chad.” Her voice darkened in anger, and hey, there clicked that mystery of what the other had done to warrant the brunt of that earlier fury. Kinda sounded like that walking stereotype at this point, honestly. At least if he was filling that role, he may as well go full steam, Dipper thought sardonically.

As it turned, Dipper helped out for about an hour, cleaning up bits of glass, unscrewing broken cabinets, and generally making a list of all the missing or unsalvageable items with Dominique at his side, barking orders while simultaneously doing her own fair share. It took time and it was _not_ exactly how he wanted to spend these moments, but he was also unable to think of a way out of the situation and whenever he tried the girl seemed to, without maybe realizing the extent, rope him right back in. 

He was getting a little nervous. It had been two or three years since he’d dealt with...regular things. Normal, regular people. Even people that he kind of respected, on some level. It felt foriegn. Alien. A bit...surreal. Like a dream he’d thought up, or a chore he’d once known how to do and had forgotten entirely.

All the while, Bill had been uncharacteristically quiet during the whole endeavor, and while there was something slightly unnerving about that (because Bill? Quiet? Come on.), he decided not to get into it right then. And honestly while there was also a comfort in the idea of doing regular...human things in a human-esque world, in a place he’d been absolutely _positive_ he’d never be able to go to again, it was also strangely and weirdly unnerving in an alien sort of way after the years spent in a realm where literally anything was possible at any given moment and where he was considered anything from a pet, partner, apprentice, detached limb, or luggage piece of an aforementioned triangle demon currently residing in his backpack. The last seemed to be the more common of the bunch, honestly, which was never fun. Well, none of them were. But there was a sort of comfort in the abnormal horror of it all. The predictability in the weird. He’d even...kind of started to fall into step with it. Become _used_ to it. Bill, and by extension the multiverse, had become...maybe not a home, but something.

He glanced up as the bell rang. Dominique cursed.

“Oh fuck, well. There’s the bell.” She turned a relieved, grateful look his way. “Look, thanks a ton Dipper. Honestly I really wasn’t looking forward to doing all of this on my own. But…well, guess I kind of saved your ass too.” She grinned, jabbing him in the shoulder light heartedly, teasing. “So let’s just call it even, huh?”

He grinned back, somewhat anxious and definitely awkwardly in return. Yep. Ten points for totally normal, totally human Dipper. Ten points right there.

“Oh, uh, yeah! No problem. Um. Any time.” He returned, rubbing the punched spot a little uneasily.

“Just lay off the in-between-class ganja sessions though, alright?” And she laughed, “Seriously, I never pegged you as the type! The more you know, I guess.” And that...well, seemed to be that.

It took the boy all of a few seconds to say his goodbyes, feign needing to get to class, before he bolted out the door, backpack in tow. _Finally_ free.

He really was wasting his time here. Too much time. And apparently he’d...kind of done this reality Dipper a solid by helping out? Probably. Maybe. Well, who cared.

“Hey, Bill.” He said aloud, gaze scanning the hallway now flooding again with students, “So, fill me in here. Where exactly _are_ we? Also. What’s with the silent act?” He inquired a bit tersely, gaze tracking all the students as he made to rush his way through them. Just like that goddamn fish dimension where he and Bill had had to fight through a stream of giant space salmon making their way up the cosmic ripples of time. No big thing. Exactly like that.

Bill hmmm’d casually. “Sorry, Pine Cone. Was kind of distracted for a second here.”

He got a rough bump by a beefier looking kid, and glanced behind him, struggling through the mass in slight annoyance.

“Oh...yeah? What for?”

Another pause left him to fight his way through a sea of girls chattering on about water bottles and...the great pyramid conspiracies of the world? Okay...

“....Just a strange kind of energy.” The triangle mused from inside his backpack. “Something I _know_ I’ve felt before, but...geez. It’s like I caaaan’t quite place my finger on it. It’s driving me NUTS! You have no idea.”

Dipper huffed at that, shoving through a rather large pack of goths. “Anything we need to be worried about?” He inquired testily, trying to see his way over the pack to where the exit was, mind pulling on the thread of Bill’s words all the while.

“Not sure yet!” The demon replied brightly, leaving Dipper in return to sigh heavily. Well, great. He guessed it didn’t _really_ matter. If they were out of here in time, they could just draw some more nightmare like energy and travel to the _right_ destination this time instead of weird alternate realities where people seemed to know him _and_ Bill repeatedly for some reason. Bill/Dipper dimensions. Just what he needed.

And right then, he spotted the exit. The beautiful, glowing sign, situated just atop the emergency sign. _Yes._ Finally! He felt a bit of relief, jogging just to keep up with his eagerness to get the hell out of this crappy school and just as he reached fingers out toward the door, of course, was another voice that broke the hall. This just kept on happening.

Except...his brain turned, stuttering in a kink of mechanics. This one...was different.

This one suddenly struck him, bearing against his brain. Stopping his heart and movement cold.

This one turned the world dead on its spin.

Dipper stood still. Standing, frozen, barely registering as a few students shoved passed him; the world and noises around him dying out entirely in a roaring tide of white noise.

And when he turned to look, he felt like time itself had stopped, as if somehow his brain was caught into another reality, pulled away from his body. 

He was met with a rushing bundle of bright pink sweater and beaming, triumphant eyes.

His body went numb. And nothing in him seemed to work at all. He just stood there. Stupid. Dumb. Deaf. Shocked.

“DIP-N-DOT!” A sudden hug embraced him and with that embrace, with the familiar feeling of it, he felt the shock sink in. nd with it came emotions. Emotions of turmoil, need, comfort, and deep shrieking loss spinning and thrashing and bearing, crashing down in a whirlwind of power. It stunned him with its intensity. 

Dipper the alien.

Dipper the human-not-human of the multiverse.

Dipper the geek, the half Bill, half demon, half freak.

Dipper without emotions, the cynical, sarcastic other.

That him was cracking.

A break in the mold.

A crack in the wall of his self.

His head rang dully. The girl beside him was speaking, ranting off in a fevered, happy train, but he couldn’t catch any of it. Not a word. Not a single one passed through to him. 

He couldn’t stop shaking, or even understand _why_ he was shaking to start with.

It took all of a minute before Mabel hushed, her rant stopping abrupt, suddenly looking shocked.

“D-Dipper? Are you…” She peered closer at him and he could hardly stay in place, the world tilting on itself, her voice coming to him between the chasm of weight confused and hesitant, “Are you... _crying?”_

He stared at her...shocked, bringing a shaking hand to brush against his hot cheek. It came back wet, streams of tears flooding from his eyes. He hadn’t even realized it. But...he was. 

He tried hard to swallow, but it caught on him, and it didn’t seem to work. He couldn’t really manage it. Instead, all he seemed able to do was stare, hand reaching unconsciously forward to touch at her, as if to break the chasm that ghosted him, to be sure she was really there, physical and tangible. When seeming certain, when his fingers actually met _solid weight_ , he found his body moving on its own, suddenly throwing his arms out, embracing his twin with a desperation he hadn’t known for years. Not since he was really, really little. Barely a kid.

God. It had been a long time.

Too long. Christ. _So long._

Years of the dreamscape, of distracting himself from his earth, from Mabel, and Ford and grunkle Stan and his parents and home and friends came catapulting back to him in a rush. Years of just not thinking about it. Of too much adventure to fill a bag, too many unpredictabilities, of a certain, dead certain knowledge he’d never be going back. Ever. He’d never risk Bill on the universe. His mind played rapid of constant movement. Of constant change. And stupid quips to Bill, endless days and nights blinded into one. Life and death scenarios around every corner. Mysteries and trying to survive them. Becoming an intergalactic criminal. The most wanted, with the triangle overlord being the main target of so many, through malice and envy. All of it seemed to come to a head, and he clutched to his twin as if she was the only thing in this world that held any weight at all. As if the only grounded rock he had along it.

Mabel stood, shocked, hugging gently back, but in a kind of confused, uncertain state, patting his back very carefully. She tried to pull back and he almost, for a second, didn’t let her. She studied him, trying to read him through his dark sunglasses. “Dipper…broski, hey, what’s going on?” She sounded deeply concerned and reached out to take the sunglasses, but Dipper bowed his head before she could, wiping his eyes on a sleeve, avoiding that gaze. He felt shaken, at a loss, that crack breaking a bit deeper, a bit wider.

 _‘...Kid, we should get moving.’_ He heard the voice in his head. Calm, calculated. Certain. There was little doubt Bill could feel the extent of this moment, the raw need of emotions. See them unraveling. To be frank, Dipper just never fell apart like this. Even at the worst of it, he was all easy quip and attitude. He’d become the king of rolling with the weirdness. He sometimes got the impression he was almost tolerable to Bill in that way. But then...if there was ever a moment for it…He bit down, genuinely trying to reign himself in. Trying to paint over the crack and get himself back together, like always. But he couldn’t and in a rare moment of real emotion, found he didn’t even want to anymore.

 _‘Kid, come on.’_ Bill warned.

Over the years Dipper had become far too cynical. Far too sarcastic. He was quick with a quip, a plan, a devised way out of any situation and the tools to get there. He was quick to solve any problem or die trying, and also the very last to give up or give satisfaction to whatever monster of the week wanted their heads. But this...this was entirely different. This was his twin sister. This was _Mabel_ , who he hadn’t seen in years, and wasn’t supposed to see again; the person he’d sacrificed everything for here alive and well. He hadn’t seen this coming. He wasn’t sure how, but he hadn’t seen him running into her like this. It just hadn’t come to him. Not once. Maybe he’d kind of known he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Ignoring the dream demon he reached out, touching at her shoulder. And as soon as he did, he found himself incapable of not pulling her closer once again. He could feel the tension coming from Bill, feel the wariness, but brushed it off entirely.

“Nothing.” He said, voice choked and heavy, his hug a little less intense, but all the more warm and embracing for it. “Just...god, I seriously just missed you, Mabel.” He said softly, naked and honest in the remark, to an extent that he didn’t even recognize as his own.

Mabel let him hug her like that for a long moment, the worry, shock and concern radiating clearly from her. She hugged back once again rather softly, even after the hall had cleared and the second bell had already rung. Dipper forced himself to take in a breath, swallowing again at that horrible lump lodged in his throat. And the boy smiled, pulling back, wiping at his eyes again with an orange sleeve and a weak, choking laugh.

It had been a long...long time since his smile was real. Even if, honestly, it was tainted in something just as sad. He could feel it. A wave of relief, of energy, of normalcy dipping into the reality that this was not his Mabel. And he and Bill were bound for the multiverse.

“It’s...it’s good to see you.” He finally said, despite it all. She looked positively off the edge in concern, studying his face carefully, alarm in every feature. But he just smiled in return.

“Dipper…” She spoke softly, warily, somehow amplified in the isolation of the now empty hallway. “We just saw each other this morning...remember?” She sounded almost scared, cautious, seeming to know there was more going on than met the eye. He just smiled weakly in return.

“Y...Yeah. I know.” He replied again, softly, and glanced downward, away from her. “Just...kinda been a rough week.” A rough few years, more like. He ran the sleeve again against his eyes, trying to manage the very noticable flood of it.

Bill had gone still and quiet. Listening to the two, and he knew, listening to him. Watching him. Watching him unfold.

She hovered there near him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, urging him with her eyes to look at her.

“Bro-bro...hey, come on...it’s _me_ . What’s _really_ going on.” Her voice held a certain level of real authentic seriousness to it, something not too normal for Mabel, and he slowly met her gaze, still caught between those black shades. 

He stared at her gaze.

And _God_ , how he wanted to. God how he’d missed sharing literally everything with her. How he’d missed late nights of talking and joking and plotting. How he’d missed the easy honesty, the reliability, the jokes and freely goofing off. Even puberty hadn’t broken their bond. He and Mabel honestly hadn’t even lasted a full year before she’d moved back to Gravity Falls and finished high school in the neighboring town once he himself had accepted Ford’s apprenticeship. She’d been given caretaker duty by their grunkle Stan, who Ford had begrudgingly allowed to move back in and take up the Mystery Shack antics once more; partnering with the man to open a hand made crafts store of bedazlements, crafts, and endless sweaters. _‘So long as you stay out of our way,’_ He could remember his mentor’s firm, callous voice lecture.

Unlike him and Mabel, it had been hell on earth getting those two to make up, and even then things remained tense.

That had been ages ago, lifetimes apart, it felt.

He tried swallowing again. But that lump remained ever present, stubborn, as he looked into her eyes. His willpower, any resolve to keep himself guarded and on target, on focus, drained away.

“Okay.” He succeeded gently. Dipper knew it wasn’t his Mabel. This wasn’t his Mabel. But...for the life of him, it didn’t matter. Because they were still twins. Alternate universes or no. 

_‘Kid, this is a bad idea. Even for you.’_ Again the voice came, but he ignored it entirely, as if Bill didn’t exist. That seemed to make the other even more irritated, he could feel it pressing against him. 

Just as he was about to spill everything, a different voice...of course, another damn voice, came out down the hall, breaking through the moment.

“Mabel? Hey, what the heck are you--”

And as Dipper looked up, his eyes met...with someone else.

Someone else his height, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. Someone who looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Someone with a funny nose, a big head, awkward height and a pine tree printed backpack. Someone who was actually _him_.

Mabel turned at the voice, the surprise showing clear on her face.

Oh boy. Great. Just great.

Him and other him stared at each other. He pulled away from Mabel as the other him started out in shock: “W-wait, hold on--HEY! **_YOU!_ **” The alternate exclaimed loudly in sudden, jolting recognition, thrusting a finger in his direction in shock.

He hesitated, heart jumping into action against his chest. This...probably was not going to end well. A part of him instinctively wanted to get out of dodge and just take off, but another was suddenly very vulnerably in the position of not wanting to leave his twin sister’s side. He felt rooted, and loyal, and desperate for the familiarity and solidity of it.

He loudly cleared his throat, choosing to stand his ground, even as Mabel drew back from him a bit uncertainly, wariness painting her features.

“Ummmm….” She glanced between them, his other self almost comically frozen in an accusatory finger jab cast in his direction, and he himself in a girl’s orange sweater, beaten up jeans, and sporting “badass” attire black sunglasses. “Dip...pers?” She tried hesitantly, the question seeming to linger hastily against the air.

The other him began marching over, looking frazzled and all too serious.

Dipper did not move.

 _‘Kid, just get out of here.’_ Bill urged, a dark irritation lingering in his tone. He could practically feel the eye roll from the other. It was a rare kick that he went to ignoring Bill. Over the last few years it hadn’t exactly been possible, and the other seemed to find an unreasonable amount of joy in getting on his nerves, or pulling a rise from him. But this situation was a unique one. This one involved his sister.

He stared down the other and, all at once, other him whipped off his glasses in a single, far too dramatic movement as if ripping the mask off a scooby-doo villain. And his other self grinned, a bit tensely, somewhat triumphantly, beaming in his deductions. “Thought so.” He declared in triumph, staring at his surreal yellow glowing eyes in return. Dipper hesitated, but didn’t try to grab back the glasses just yet. “I _knew_ something was weird.” His counterpart continued bitingly, waving the hand holding his glasses animatedly and very accusatory, “Especially after Cherie started going off about her backpack and then me _glowing_ and hah, Bi…” His other caught himself suddenly, tripping over his words and glancing to their sister’s space apprehensively, “A billion. Other...other things.” He finished lamely, hastily.

Dipper snagged his glasses back as other him held them for a moment while gauging Mabel’s reaction.

“Uh, Dipper, what’s...um, going on? Is this...another clone thing or future thing or...?”

His alternate glared at him as he promptly shoved the glasses back on his own nose. It was the _principle_ of the thing here. He didn’t actually care too much if people uncovered him for what he was. He’d lived through too much weirdness to care about that kind of thing. 

The two doubles held each other’s gaze stubbornly and in equal defiance, glaring in an exchange, before he finally spoke up.

“Alternate reality, actually.” He finally gave, and his counterpart crossed his arms.

“What are you even _doing_ here, anyways, man? I thought you left! I thought you’d gone...back to your realm, or whatever.”

Mabel gasped, looking enthralled. “An alternate reality? Like...wait, another alter you? From another world? _Seriously?_ ” She asked curiously, aghast in excitement, glancing his way, the old mystery twins vibe peeking back up through her. He felt his cheeks burn somewhat, stomach churning horribly for reasons he didn’t understand. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? Still...man he did miss the Mystery Twins thing.

“I…” He began, before backtracking, his other’s words coming back to him sharply, “...wait.” He paused suddenly, taking his glasses down again to frown at the other and take a better look. “....You...you’re the same me? From before? In your room?” He asked hastily, leaving out the whole part about Bill and the horror dimensions from earlier. Some things were honestly _better_ left out.

The other him eyed him warily, expression shifting a bit. “Yes? Who else would I be..? You’re in _our_ reality after all.”

Dipper’s eyes narrowed.

 _“Bill_ .” He hissed angrily and suddenly, and thought the next part, rather harshly, _‘What the hell? I thought we transported to a new reality?! To find that whole source thing?!’_

“Um. Hol’ up. Did you say Bill?” Mabel poked in, looking a little suspiciously between them. 

“NO!!” His counter broke in abruptly, “Uh. No, he said...Still. As in...he’s still…...here.” His alternate put, again very lamely, rubbing at the back of his neck fervently and avoiding their sister’s gaze.

God. Did he really sound like that when he was making up excuses? This was so obvious. Mabel gave him an odd, calculating look, before considering the two seriously. Her gaze softened when reaching him again, and he felt something inside of him ache horribly at it. She reached out, taking his hands. They felt just as solid and as real as before, her eyes seeming to read his pain with an ease.

“Well, alright, either way. This won’t do. Come on, other broski. Let’s all skip class and get this sorted out!” She beamed at them cheerfully, “There’s this super amazing icecream place just down the street!” His other self blanched at that,

“ _Mabel_ . We can’t just skip class--and-besides, you’re still _recovering-_ ”

“Too late!” She beamed happily, looping her arm around his other self and him, and starting to skip to the exit not too far down the hall from where they stood. Other him shot him a disbelieving glare, but in that moment, he couldn’t have cared less. A swelling of emotions overwhelming him, from a vibrant familiarity he’d missed more than breathing (and in some realms, he didn’t even have that) to a horrible sadness that seemed to settle into him, a kind of bittersweetness that left him aching for his old life, for his old self, a self that had fallen through the cracks somehow; both all the good and bad. All the same, despite it all, Mabel laughed, bursting it open with a, “POW! Yeah! Take _that_ , exit door!” And dragging them unwillingly along down the street leading out of the high school.

* * *

It took no time at all to reach the ice cream parlor Mabel had mentioned. She thrust her two brothers into a booth with a fierce jubilance, grinning between them. “Alright. You two behave while I go get us some well deserved ice cream.” And she marched cheerily off to do just that. His alternate followed her with his gaze until he was sure she was out of earshot and turned to him, leaning up against the table.

“What are you _doing here_ still?!” He demanded in a hushed tone, voice slightly disbelieving and a bit frazzled. 

He held up his hands in fake surrender. “Hey man, don’t look at me. I thought we transported out of here, same as you.” He reached around to his bag, unceremoniously dropping it onto the table and promptly unzipping it. “This asshole’s gotta be the one to give the explanations here.” Bill poked his head out, adjusting slightly his top hat and looking for all in purposes entirely annoyed and disheveled. He shot a dark look to him, very clearly saying _‘We’re talking later,’_ A silent warning. 

He’d be getting some kind of horrifying revenge for ignoring him, he was sure of it. But he didn’t care. Not right now. His focus was already on something else.

Bill jumped away from the anger fast, and with an ease, the cheer returning like a lightbulb popped to life.

“WHEW! Gotta say, here. As much fun as it sounded at first, traveling in an overstuffed clothpile - _NOT_ my first choice.” He brushed himself off, springing into the air in all his triangle glowing glory. “Twice as fun inside the digestive acid of a croaklyn beas--HEY!” Before the two knew it, other him had shoved the demon back in the bag and zipped it in a panicked rush. The other turned to him, vividly accusing and desperate.

“What are you _doing_ !? _Seriously?!_ Bill can’t be out here!” He said in a hushed panic, glancing around frantically, the edges seeming to rise on his whole tense body, that frazzled look drowning even further in upset.

At which...he just stared at his counterpart blankly. Seriously? He sort of felt that blankness overtake him

“...Why not?” Both he and Bill’s voice came out at the same time, his more dully nonplussed and Bill’s a dull whine.

 _‘Heh. Because, Pine Tree, other me...humans are fragile little bags of prey that skat at the very first bump of the night! Don’t you know?’_ Came that same voice he knew too well, a bit amused and smug...only, the aura of it was, well, actually very different. Dipper could pick it out instantly, the slight difference resonating against his senses and mind. It almost had a more...duller, reddish feel to it, if he were to place a color to the tone. Where as his triangle was all blues and shining golds, a different flavor, almost. Both the same brand of ice cream, but one sort of...led more towards a rocky road rather than that pure chocolate. Subtle differences, but ones that settled into him.

Dipper stared at the backpack the other had tossed on the adjoining seat where apparently the second Bill was residing. He could sense the aura there, now that he thought about it. Was carrying Bills around in backpacks the _norm_ now? Damn. Like some kind of...Dipper fashion statement?? Also, man, good to know that other Bill could link into this weird telekinesis thing they had going on.

Still. He shifted a bit uncomfortably. He had to admit. This was weird. Weird that he couldn’t really...well, _tell_ normal from weird anymore. Was there a time a more human him could’ve picked out this kind of...lack of social normalities? Been as shocked and disbelieving and exasperated as the double sitting across from him? Shit...actually. He wasn’t even entirely sure. He was wrestling to figure it out. Something he’d totally lost somewhere along the line - common sense. Or common...humanity? Living constantly in a realm where fingerless creatures springing from endless walls and worlds where humans had been replaced with sofa chairs was entirely commonplace, “social norms” and “acceptable concepts” seemed…really, really otherworldly to him. After all, it had been years and years since he’d last been anywhere that was similar to earth. Even a _little_ close. He’d been the only human out there, the last echo aside from Uncle Ford, who’s wanted posters he could still see plastered over every shift in dimension.

He hesitated.

“Okay…I mean. Sure.” The boy tried to catch himself fairly awkwardly, playing it off like he wasn’t a total useless, clueless bundle of unease. Yeah. He knew how to be human. Right... He’d done it for...most of his life, right? He scratched at his neck uncertainly, feeling a sudden and powerful rush of connectedness with his uncle and his similar inability to place these weird, same human social norms after his return. Come to think of it, probably hadn’t helped that Ford had been his main source of company for five years prior to this. 

Mentally, he heard a very familiar chuckle. 

_‘Wow. You know, I like this Pine Tree.’_ The other Bill’s voice rang out, clearly amused. _‘Reminds me of ol’ Fordsy.’_

 _‘Pinecone.’_ His Bill corrected instantaneously, digging a deep pang of annoyance from him, _‘Don’t get wrapped up in a nickname he doesn’t deserve, other me.’_

Petty asshole.

He shoved his backpack in annoyance, glancing back up to the other him, who still seemed apprehensive, but shot a look at his own backpack all the same.

“So. Um. Anyways. I guess we’re stuck here.” He glanced down at his bag. “Or...what?”

“No idea!” His Bill said aloud, very unhelpful and muffled but voice still easy and bright from behind the cloth. Looking even more on edge, his counterpart hushed him with a loud groan. “Been trying to work that out.” His triangle chirped, ignoring his other entirely with an ease.

“Well,” His other self grit out, finally conceding, “Look. Whatever the case, this is...really kind of poor timing on your part.” The more Dipper was looking at his other self, the more it became obvious how truly disheveled he was. The heavy bags seeming to become deeper, clearer, more heavy with the time he’d spent here; his features pale and reactions jumpy, like a cat ready to leap at the first sound of a backfiring car. His alter self glanced up over the table to try and make their sister out, looking wary.

“...Do tell.” He pressed regardless with a wave of his hand, somewhat curiously, somewhat guardedly. He couldn’t help being a little bit curious. Even if alter-him was jumpy, on edge, and generally none too pleased to be in this situation, he couldn’t help finding himself wondering just how things were panning out in this reality. Other-him had a Bill too. Was that why he was like this? Was that why he looked like he was about to snap from the nerves of it all? He could recall his uncle being in a state like this only once, and that was shortly before Weirdmageddon, a topic both he and Bill had silently, but fervently agreed to never touch back on ever again. Still, it seemed easy enough to put two and two together. At least, possibly. Honestly, it was hard to place. Clearly this version of him and Bill had a connection, and his Bill had said something about being bound to him...but it was also clearly an entirely different concept from the one he had been living with for all these years. 

Either way, when Bill was concerned, usually so was some form of massive trouble or endless, terrifyingly weird and wild chaos. That was practically a given. 

_‘Aw, thanks Pinecone.’_ His Bill thought, fondly, in a hint of teasing sarcasm. _‘You know just how ta flatter a guy.’_

Other-him shrank in his seat slightly, seeming to collapse into himself somewhat, muscles tensing. He looked on against the table, hands at his head, looking off against it as if fixated; gears turning, gaze scrutinizing.

“...We’re...well. Kind of...in the middle of something. Something...something big.” His eyes narrowed at the tone and he simply gestured for his other to continue. His counterpart glanced at the bag beside him, and again he would bet anything the two were having some kind of muted, secret conversation right there in the open. 

Man he really hoped he and Bill didn’t look like that when they were think-talking.

After a moment of shifting expressions, from concern to irritation to a kind of drawn resolution, his other self eventually sighed, peering back at him in a certain leveled seriousness, expression withdrawn and flat.

“...We’re trying to prevent another apocalypse.” 


	7. Keep Smiling through just like You Always Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bill comes back to life as Stan begins to remember him...and in which he pursues a deal with a certain little old puppet, taking the long route towards conquering the world and that little meatbag's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Relationships:** Billdip  
>  **Warnings:** Eh, maybe later. Not right now.
> 
> This is mostly turning into a practice run of me trying to nail Bill's voice. I love and hate you brilliant minds out there that just nail his character. 
> 
> Anyhow, I'd had a rough idea of this ages back, but [Little Dipper (Tox)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tox/pseuds/Little%20Dipper)'s fic [Long Road to Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700893/chapters/17545906) really cinched it for me. It's going to have a looot of similarities, but also verge off into my own original ideas. Go read their fic! It's great.
> 
> Also, did anyone say [BillDip playlist?](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5TeI4I8wewf6rmCMZmO7W7?si=X49fIJxHRGSc0-_voi4IlQ) (No...? Just me, then.)

“And...and if I agree to this. If I let you in my mind…” He held the other’s gaze, fixing on those surreal yellow, slitted orbs, face drawn, mind turning carefully. “If I do this...no one gets hurt.”

His grunkle’s face split into a wide, eerie grin. And the voice that came from it was bright, twisted, and touched in that old cheer. “Scout’s honor, kid.” It was like staring into the face of a wolf. A wolf, ready and eager to eat him alive. 

Dipper studied the other, heavily, critically, holding his gaze in a solid chill.

“And...my family is safe. Everyone is safe. You can’t touch _any_ of them.” He continued, voice clear and firm and solid.

That grin grew even wider. A cheshire cat, those canines looking ready to swallow him whole. Bill leaned in closer, towering against his frame in his uncle’s body.

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it.” He cooed.

Dipper’s eyes remained firm, calculated.

“No. _Say it._ Tell me they won’t be hurt. That there’s no way you or anyone else _through_ _you_ can hurt them.”

And at that, his “grunkle” leapt back, head tilting up with a bright laugh, the sound horrible, breaking into the living room with a clarity of familiarity and genuine amusement.

“Heheh. You got it, Short stuff!” And there again was that grin. Those eyes. Taking into him, as if leering, baring with desire. “Your family and friends _won’t be hurt_. You have my word!” And there was that hand. Reaching out in Stan’s body, his uncle’s body, held out in the space between them, urging him on. Giving him a way out. Those eyes so fixated on his own, just waiting. The bear trap in the middle of the woods. And with him, the damned unsuspecting fawn.

Dipper held to that gaze, mind turning a million miles an hour, thoughts fighting and racing in on each other. And gritting his teeth, steeling himself, _knowing_ how stupid this was, how fucked up, how he’d promised _never_ to be in this position again, he reached out, and clasped hold of the hand. It latched hard against his fingers, gripping tight as death, and in that instant, in that _cold_ , _surreal_ instant, a shock of energy, a distinct feeling that he’d just walked over his own grave, fled through him. As if he’d actually just sealed his own fate.

A cold fire took from the hand, flashing up his arm and launching through him in a cool fury.

And with it, in a stuttering shock of white shifted into black, the world slipping away from him entirely.

* * *

Ahhhh.

Two eyes. Opening one, closing it, the other, closing it. Heheh. This would take some getting used to! It had been what? Years at least!

Scrawny...sweaty...two arms and awkward legs...yep, here it was. His old meatsuit. His old puppet. He looked down at his hands, grinning fierce and satisfied with his canines. A body. 

“Uh, crap. What were we talking about, kid...?” 

And old Stanely. Oh Stanley. That old fart was lucky the kid had put those parameters on their deal. Well, it would be easy to skate around them eventually. That was down the line.

He glanced up, but not too much. Didn’t want to tip the hat too quickly, now. 

“Oh not much, Stanley. Just…catching up. You know. Girls. Ancient geezer stuff. The usual!” He dismissed casually, voice easy and cheerful as he offered an airy shrug.

Stan frowned at him, expression seeming to struggle, blank and distracted. His hand reached to his head, as if trying to work away the fog. 

“Uuuuh. Right.” Was the only response he got after a moment, confused and dazed.

Bill leaned forward and back, arms tucked behind his back, toes tipping to heels, absolutely grinning. This was already too much! Stanley didn’t suspect a thing. Hah, was _he_ ever going to be surprised.

“So! Looks like I should go...you know! Look at nerd books! Be paranoid. Normal stuff! See ya later, Stan!” And with a vibrant two finger salute, he took off towards the other room, stumbling slightly against his two feet. Heh. Walking! What a riot! He couldn’t wait to get used to it all over again. 

As it stood (or didn't much yet, in his case), he had big plans coming in. Big, big plans. And this time, rather than screwing things up, Pine Tree would be on _his_ side. His face split into a whole other grin at the thought. He could hardly wait to stir this pot up. And boy, did it need stirring! Five years was _far too long_ without rampant chaos and weirdness around every corner. Gravity Falls, here he came!

 _‘Don’t worry, kid,’_ He gave cheerfully on the sly to the figure, locked against his own dreamscape, pounding fruitlessly against a shield in his own head, yelling and cursing up a storm. _‘You’re gonna be my right hand man! My wingman, if you will. Old Sixer wouldn’t let just anyone get by his side for what_ **_I’ve_ ** _got planned. Or, well! What_ **_we’ve_ ** _got planned, haha, am I right? HAH! And with all the things I know now, well...don’t you worry. Things’ll unfold sooooon enough.’_ He smirked as the kid continued to curse in his little cage, admiring the chains latched against his legs and throat and the triangular yellow dome that caught his spirit in place right there inside the kid’s own realm. Well...He guessed it was also kind of his realm now! Everything the kid was and could be belonged in his hands now.

“BILL! I MEAN IT! _THIS WASN’T PART OF THE DEAL!!_ ” He yelled, short and furious, pounding away at the pyramid in an angry panic. 

HO-HO-HO! The kid sure could flail! Oh, boy had he missed that. And seeing the little Pine Tree all locked up and helpless was _perfect_ , really just a picture for everything he had planned before them. Revenge was sweet. Boy, was it! And even sweeter like this. He couldn’t wait until the kid could see, face to face, all the things he had in store. This was going to be great. More than great! And now that he had his own little secret up his sleeve about the true nature of this meat puppet...well. 

The demon considered, pondering, finger under chin as he gazed up toward the flight of stairs leading to the kid’s little attic room. Who would have thought, Pine Tree was a freak just like him...? Who could’ve _ever_ guessed! He’d always found the kid interesting of course, but this was something else entirely.

He’d have to thank the Axolotl for that little snippet of information. If it hadn’t been for that stupid all knowing water lizard, he may have never hatched this brilliant plan to begin with. Soon enough even _he_ couldn’t stop what he had planned.

He leapt, taking two steps at a time, laughing as his foot slipped and he crashed, tumbling in a heap back down them all over again. Slam, slam, slam, **_slam_ **! Every bit of force jolting him senseless with shocks of pain.

“HAH!” He cheered, grinning brightly at the view of the kid’s expression who, naturally, could see _everything_ . “WHAT a _rush_!” Climbing back to his feet, he tried a running start up the flight once more, unable to resist slipping again and falling backward with another laugh, one for every crack and slam, feeling giddy and _alive_. Life was _hilarious_!

“UGH! _BILL!_ WILL YOU KNOCK THAT OFF! YOU’RE GOING TO GET US KILLED!” The kid roared, slamming a useless fist against the pyramid’s wall. A little spit fire. The tiny meatbag had sure grown up. More sure of himself! More confident. A lot more full of anger. And...just as awkward and sweaty. A lot like Sixer, if he were honest. It kind of made him like him all the more. This kid was perfect.

“Hahah, alright, _alright!_ Ya little killjoy!” He beamed at the open stairway. Boy though, having a body again sure was fun. He sure was going to take this thing for all it was worth.

“Dipper?” Came a call from the kitchen, “You alright?”

Whoop!

Too much fun, too fast he supposed.

“Uh, oh yeah! All good, Stan!” He yelled back in return, getting back to his feet and instantly feeling a wave of dizziness as sparks exploded through his vision. _Whoa!_ He teetered slightly, laughing again as he steadied himself, before pulling his weight in a wobbly mess, legs first, up the stairs; his torso hanging back unnaturally as he went. Whoo! Body movements sure were weird! He _loved_ not being used to this! Dipper, in the dreamscape, face palmed with a low, irritated, drawn out groan.

“You _cannot_ be serious right now.” The kid muttered, burying his head into the brunt of his palm. But _oh,_ he was. And as much fun as this was, somehow it was even _better_ just getting the kid to squirm a little. His little chess piece didn’t disappoint either! “You _know_ someone’s going to catch you! Ford and Mabel will see right through this!” The kid challenged in defiance, yelling for all he was worth.

“Eh, let ‘em find me!” He grinned easily, peering around the hallway toward the attic, dismissing the threats. “But I’ll tell you what kid, that sister of yours - not as observant as you might think! I’d bet you anything, she won’t even tell the difference!” As for IQ...well, he already had big plans in place for him. After all, he wasn’t just taking over this kid’s body. No, _that_ was too low key. Too easy! What a dumb play that was. No, after all that plotting, he had to play this right. Plan this out. Work it step by subtle step. Bill was in it for the long haul, the whole game, the full ten yards. And games like these weren’t won overnight. They were won in inches. The kid would see that soon enough.

“You won’t get away with this, BILL!” Dipper roared. Hilarious! God, that kid was hilarious.

“Oh? But kid! I think we both know...I already have!” He beamed, busting open the door to the attic in a burst of foot to crashing door and climbing up the stairs, freely zigzagging his steps with a laugh, letting his feet take him wherever they would. “Oh! And don’t go getting any crazy ideas, either! This won’t be like the last time! Before, I had a dreamscape and my own realm to return to. But here? Kid, your brain _is my realm!_ And you gave it to me! Practically _free of charge!”_

The kid’s face was a mix of conflict. Anger. Resentment. Guilt. And a calculated, set determination, one that _screamed_ \- _‘I’m going to defeat you.’_ Boy, he couldn't help but love that fire the kid was showing. Really, as if the kid was anything but a tiny sack of flesh.

The familiar room burst into view, including his favorite window. How beautiful. How handsome! How perfectly shaped. The figure of the colored triangle cast off clear against the carpet, giving his old form so much life. It was always a lot of fun peering in every now and then, he was practically omnipotent in this town after all! And the Pines shack had been his most widely viewed haunts. After all, it was crawling with his form! Made him feel rightly comforted and welcome. Like a big old pile of cookies and milk waiting beneath the chimney. Hilarious how Stan had gone and taken down all the boards over the windows and even hung up things ol’ Sixer had haphazardly try and destroy or bury. His triangle sanctuary was back in bloom! He’d known what Stanely was getting up to well before the old geezer had pulled it off. And he’d even known about Pine Tree’s dumb ploys, taking off blindly in Sixer’s footprints, stumbling into trouble, even before the guy had gotten back here! What a pain. And, honestly, kinda a kick too.

“You ever think pain and fun are two in the same coin, kid?” He asked lightly, contemplating that bit of philosophy as he struck off toward the kid’s bag.

“What? You’re insane, Bill.” Dipper muttered darkly, fists clenched. He was no longer pounding at the cage, but instead giving the scene a death glare that could freeze ice. Woof! Spooky. He grinned. The kid sure had spunk, but he could see past it with ease. Of course he could! He was the master of the mind, of the unconscious, after all. He could still make out that deep fear. The panic. The terror. All swimming, clinging just beneath the surface, so deliciously close. The kid, under a pile of fierce defiance and fury, reeked of it. He had to admit, it was too much like IQ. So prepared to face the devil in the details, head first, fists raised. 

“Tell me something I don’t know!” He laughed, jubilantly, reaching into the bag and pulling out the kid’s journal. A pine tree on the front! How fitting. And below it, a number that read “4”. “So, it’s your fourth one, huh?” He inquired, flipping it over casually. Would you look at that! The kid even mimicked Sixer’s style. Almost exactly. His grin widened. Like mentor like apprentice. This was too cute.

“What do you care? I don’t even _have_ anything in there that you can use!”

His human sausage straws paused on one of the pages, laying it out flat. “Bingo.” He said, quietly. As there, reflecting back in a sketch that wasn’t quite Sixer’s style, but captured the image more than enough, was his old, fantastic body. Etched as if made from stone, reaching out for an eternal deal. An eternal reminder of his passing fate, once upon a time.

_‘Bill Cipher’s old body. Found deep in the woods. No signs of life, no signs of anything. Dead, as far as me and my uncle can tell. Still proceed with caution; anything could happen.’_

Well, the kid had been right about one thing. Anything _could_ happen. And it _had._ After looking it over one more time to be sure he got the directions down, he snapped the book shut.

“I’m keeping this!” He announced brightly to no one, shoving the book back in the kid’s bag. He wondered if there was anything remotely interesting that the kid also had in there. He fished around. “Oh, and by the way, we’re going to be roomies for quuuuite a while kid.” He focused inward on the kid’s expression, his form still trapped, chained, teeth grit, arms folded. “But I’ll tell you what! I’m feeling pretty generous at the moment. What say you and I make another deal and I let you out and about some of the time.” He asked coyly, hoping to tug at the other’s fire of defiance. Just take the bait, kiddo. _Come on._ He imagined himself toying a little mystery clue over the kid’s head, ripping it away every time he leapt for it. Just keep leaping, kid! Up and up! He wanted to see the kid jump for him. Don’t stop being like Sixer _now._

“You really think I’m going to _trust you_ after this?! After _any_ of this!” His puppet yelled in reply.

“Whoa, hey, hey,” He broke in a laugh, “You saw me, kid! Never even _tried_ to lay a finger on ol’ Stanley, even considering everything he did. I’d say that was _extra_ generous, letting you tack that bit into the whole deal.” 

“Oh yeah, either let my great uncle be taken over by you for good, or sacrifice myself in his place. That sure was a _generous_ deal you gave me.” The kid grit out, frustration clear. Boy. The kid had no idea. He had never been going to take no for an answer. He wasn’t interested in Stanely. Not like the puppet trapped beneath him. The little human idiot had his interest now. In more ways than the meatsack could know.

“Aw, thanks kid! You know, I really thought so.” He preened, "After all, I coulda just taken your uncle’s form for good, got some laughs in, maybe threw it down a couple of buildings. But here we are! Boy, am I too much, or what?” Dipper glared.

“Yeah. You kind of _are._ ”

He laughed at that. “Oh come on, what do you have to lose?” He prodded, wheedling at the other, hopefully into playing his game.

And play he would. Bill could already make out the frustration, the gears that spun, the considerations. He’d take it. He wanted to thwart him, outsmart him, _beat him,_ after all! Put him in a corner. The kid _wanted_ the fight. He wanted the chance. _Cooome oooon, kid!_ The little Pinecone was too desperate for his chance to let this one slip by.

Dipper grit down. “Why would you do that.”

He broke into an easy smile, digging again through the kid’s dumb bag that also sporting a pine tree, probably from the dumb gift shop of Stan’s.

“Weeellll, let’s just say I’m a giving guy. So whaddya say? You give me a little something extra, I let you show up here every now and then, hang out with the sis, go to nerd conventions or…. whatever it is you do.” He waved off merrily.

Dipper paused, eyes locking against his feet in grit determination. He was trapped and he _knew it_. His grin stretched on wider. He couldn’t help but love that defiant, but helpless expression. What a perfect little toy. He was _really_ looking forward to taking this kid apart.

“I want control of my body _when_ I want, Bill.” He grit out then, gaze fierce as it turned upward.

He laughed.

“HAH! Cute, kid, real cute. But _why_ would I do that when I have all the cards?” Lucky for him, the kid actually _had_ a set of cards in his bag, at which Bill pulled out to examine. He flipped through a Joker and Queen, bringing them to the forefront. “No, here’s the pitch: _you_ promise to spend some time with me helping me out with a little something every now and then, juuuust for a little pinch, and _I_ generously lend you your body! For human stuff.”

The kid wasn’t having it. 

“A little something? _What_ kind of “little something?” His voice was very guarded, and oh so serious. Pfffft, serious! In his tiny shorts and flannel, practically small as a gnome. This kid was seriously killing him.

“Oh you know...just a _project_ I’m working on.” He replied airily, easily.

“Project like “apocalypse” kind of project?” The other grit out, still tense and clear and to the point.

“Psssh, apocalypse! Talk about _old news!_ Nah, kid, I’ve got my sights on much higher horizons now!” He assured the other brightly, “Tell ya what, if you don’t think it follows your weird little… “human code” you won’t have to do it! Aaand, it won’t harm your family or friends, so long as we stick to the deal. Swear.”

This had the kid's expression turning again. He groaned, throwing a hand against locks of long brown hair, shooting a dark, fierce gaze his way. He could read the utter hated and defiance and just _couldn’t_ take it seriously. He also kind of couldn't help but love it. He kind of even wanted _more_ of that dark expression! How scary! Hahah. And how the kid didn’t know what really lurked behind those meaty sacks of organs and bones was beyond him. But all the better. 

“UGH. I get...I get control. For most of the day.” He challenged. “AND, no one gets hurt. NO ONE BILL! Not...not the towns people. Not Soos. Not the earth. NO ONE!” He yelled furiously, and boy, look at him go!! All in a right little huff, throwing threats around like he were some kinda big shot. Like he weren’t some tiny kid chained in the lair of the devil himself! Or, well, seriously, _better_ than. _That_ guy, the real one, was a real snore. Nothing like Bill’s finesse. And finesse he certainly was!

He grinned sly and sure of himself, and the kid leapt back as a giant eye appeared, opening in front of the pyramid prison, three lines lighting up like wires of flame around it. His dream form coalesced large and towering, arms sprouting outward, a cane appearing in hand. He chuckled as the kid fell onto his ass, staring up at his form, all the while it shrank back to its regular, old fashioned size. Bill brushed himself off, a top hat popping into existence above him. Ah. Good old triangular self. Even just in the kid's dreamscape, he couldn't help but admire his old body.

“Well, well, well! You drive a hard bargain, kid, _buuuut_.” He squinted off, tipping a finger to where his chin would be. “Hmmmm. HMMMM!!” He rounded on the other in an explosion of outward arms, the pyramid dissolving and collapsing under the kid, though the chains clearly still in place. “I _accept._ ” He brought his hand out again, and loved the reflection of the blue flame that reflected in those cautious, alarmed eyes. The uncertainty. The anger. The little gears twisting and rolling, trying to work out how this would turn sideways against him...and that little bit of defiance that drove him, pulled him, to try and take the chance at _getting him_. Heheh. Cute, kid. But he wasn’t about to underestimate his new little apprentice just yet. He waited, before the kid turned the glare upwards.

“No one gets hurt.” He repeated, firm. A last point.

“Hahah! Sure thing, weirdo.” And the kid sighed, staring at the hand coldly. And with that, he reached out, grabbing a hold of it, the second time in less than an hour. This was going to be a _cakewalk_ . He practically had this kid eating out of his palm. Bill gripped the fingers, shaking it as the flame exploded around both their hands. “Most of the day!” He singsonged. “No issue, kid! Just keep your nose clean and, oh, right, forgot to mention!” He brought a finger to press against his cheek, as if a picture of child like innocence, “You try and tell or hint to _anyone_ what’s going on here, all deals are off! Your body’s mine, _and_ I get to torment **_whoever_ **the hell I please!”

“ _WHAT--_ ”

“You’re a real bargain driver, kid, but I think this worked out nicely! Sure beats anything I would’ve given to old Stanley or Sixer. Boy, what can I say, those eyes just _get me!”_ He laughed, clearly mocking, “Heck! You get to live your little cushy little life and I get to kick back and get a little something myself.”

Dipper seemed to explode on himself, working through the anger, the resentment, working any kind of way he could _pin him_ _down_ over this, skate passed these "hidden" rules, and he had to admit it was pretty amusing to watch. Jump, _jump_ , little puppet! Keep jumping for that bone! Hahaha.

“Can I _go_ now?” He finally asked, gesturing to the chains.

“MMMMM. Alright. But just for a little, kid.” He snapped his fingers and abruptly the kid’s eyes rolled back in a confused, stunned expression, stumbling as he collapsed to the ground; chains still tightly locked. And as Bill peered around the kid’s dreamscape, currently in the middle of an extended version of the Mystery Shack’s living room (replaced with a fireplace rather than a TV, and a whole few walls filled with books, Indiana Jones torches between them; a total nerd show.) he considered his next move. First thing was first. Sprucing up the place! And, of course, finding that little source, that little bit of unearthed power, that _weird_ freakshow of a reality that hid under this kid’s skin. Ripe for the exploiting. He couldn’t wait to track it down and show this kid what this _really_ had been about. Show him they were a lot more alike than he could've thought.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**A/N:** I was going to just make this a real fic, but then I made a promise to have at least eight chapters written up beforehand before throwing something up. Because, you know, they just float there for months at a time screaming at me. Besides this is a total scrap pile, if I ever get that far I may rewrite a bunch of nonsense. Time will tell, friends.

Perfect! This kid was going to be too easy to dismantle.

“Not quite what you seem under the surface, huh, Pine Tree?” He cooed, floating about the kid’s mind. Rain pounded at glass windows, grey and sharp. A kaleidoscope of a Mystery Shack and the kid’s childhood home seemed to warp and shape itself, torches guiding along the halls like a deeper view into some kind of mysterious ancient adventure cave, littered with runes (some fake, some very, very real) that glew in oddly dim, ember colors. Much of the doors were chained and padlocked, others warped and upside down. Most of it _seemed_ like a normal, every day mindscape of any dumb human pawn, (aside from the runes, though he suspected ol’ Fordsie had a part in these.) particular to this ridiculous kid. But that was just the appearance. The mess of art displayed above the slaughter. 

Honestly? He loved it. In these rare cases, mysteries were a _treat_.

The kid was like a bunch of wrapping paper, waiting to be ripped open to reveal the present within. Fun. He was going to have too much of it in here.

Getting past some of Ford’s barriers would be a hassle, but not impossible. He could work with this.

He snapped his fingers, the chains snapping apart on one of the doors.

“Nooow, where would your subconscious hide it, kid?” He pondered aloud. And as he scanned along the new odds and ends before him; tapestry of ScFi troopers and codes and ciphers painting the walls in papers and tacked to boards through arrays of string and theories, he took them in, hovering over to them. “HMMMMM.” He considered, eye narrowed, a demonic ebb of red hovering tantalizingly close to his gaze. Before snapping again, allowing them all to blaze into a glory of blue flame. “Hahaha, _there!_ Much better!” He commented proudly, a momentary amusement overcoming him. Triangles of many arrangements and artistic glories replaced them in a wash of blue fire. Some embroidered on tapestry. Some filled in against oil paintings of yellow pyramids with a single eye. Some etched, burned into the groove of the walls, not too unsimilar to the runes from earlier. Only these were _his_ and their glow was a subtle, bright blue.

He clapped his hands together, briefly and lightly pleased.

Hey, a guy had to have fun once and awhile, right? And boy did this place sure need the make over! It really wasn’t since Ford that he’d had the chance to paw through someone’s mind _properly_ . “Your uncle may have been able to worm his way out of _that deal_ , but don’t sweat it, kid! I’ve learned my lesson and I won’t be so easily duped. Fact is, you're in my mits now, and before you start getting any ideas, that’s for _good_ , and it ain’t turning out like before.” He assured the open space brightly. Not that the kid could hear him, not consciously, at least. Not in any linear sense. But he probably got the gist. Best to keep repeating it, just so the little meatsack got used to the idea. Not like he’d let even a little bit of power like this slip passed his grasp.

He hovered off to the now unchained door, swinging it open. More doors lines the hallway, signs hanging haphazardly. “DANGER” “TURN BACK” “DO NOT ENTER” in bold, streaking letters.

“Ooh, spooky!” He laughed, helping himself to ignoring them entirely. _‘Don’t mind if I do!’_

Most of it, it turned out, was just as lame as the kid. Girl trouble. Embarrassing awkward moments. Grade School bullies. And while he tacked some of it vaguely into details for later use, for a sizing up of the kid and maybe a bit of manipulation, it basically all of it went without real heavy consideration. “Boy, you got noodlier arms than me, kid.” He commented momentarily at a failed attempt of very young Pine Tree trying to take on a larger bully, before smacking himself in the face in view of one of the doors. “Hah, cute.” He laughed as the tiny kid fell back to the ground. And as he floated closer, breaking into the film of memory, the kid looked at his bully in humiliated defiance. Looked maybe, what? The beginning of some kind of human school? He got the times and civilizations confused at times. Millions of years was a lot to siphon through after all. Kid must’ve been a tadpole, maybe six or seven?

“I...I’m warning you!” The tiny speck of a prepubescent kid threatened. 

“Or what, _DIPPER_ . That’s what’s on your head, right!? A BIG DIPPER! Hahah, so stupid!!” The kids mocked. Actually, it was more likely the _Little_ Dipper, but kids like that weren’t so bright and observant.

“Gross!” Piped in a small blond haired girl, one of those more pretty ones that got aaaaalll the attention until their wrinkles came in. Man, human lives were hilariously small and short. Just tomorrow she’d be staring in the mirror, wondering where the years went, already useless and wasted away in her own mind. People like that valued very little over the worth of their looks and society didn’t particularly go correcting them. Again, humans - _hilarious_. What other animal even thought like that in the short burst of their existence? 

Dipper climbed to his feet, “Y-Yeah, well…”

Back then it seemed he didn’t have all that hair to cover his forehead. Locks of it would later fall, obscuring it from easy view, alongside an assortment of different hats from a little star to later Red’s old winter number. But right now, his hair was short cut and clean, displaying the tag of power as if a searing mark of inscription. What idiots. What creature wouldn’t see something so blatantly under their nose?

“It’s a mark of power!” He yelled out, hand cupped, as if yelling to a movie screen, popcorn having materialized in his hands and floating beside him _ages ago_. He tossed some into his eye, which sharp jutted fangs sprang from, gulping a few down.

The kid looked up, startled at his voice, stumbling back in shock. The array of bullying tikes turned their faces as well, gasping at his form. He rolled an eye. He’d put himself into the memory, pulling the conscious mind forward. _Whoops_.

“Wh..wha...wha... _what--_ ” The kid stumbled over himself, in a whirl of stuttering, typical Pine Treeness. Eh. Whatever. Maybe this version of the kid’s unconscious could enlighten him on some details anyways.

He tossed the popcorn behind him carelessly, promptly abandoning it to go floating off toward the other. The bullies took off screaming. Little monsters.

“Heya, Short Stack! How’s it going? Feeling short? Tiny? Prepubescent in your human sack flesh prison?” He shrugged nonchalantly, floating closer. Kid Dipper scrambled back from him at once, eyes flashing in a flare of familiar defiance, fear lingering just beneath the surface. 

Hah! He loved it. Never got old! The reaction to his almighty _self._ That’s right, kid! Bask in the terror! 

Though! He had to consider. Because, you know, meat sacks _really_ underestimated kids. It was hilarious irony, because often times kids _knew it too._ As much as they crooned and cawed about these little shortstacks “innocence” and “perfect naivety,” it was a load of crack. Naive? Hilarious! Kids saw more than adult meatbags any day.

Just look at this idiot, working him out as if studying the very meaning of life and convinced he could _solve it_. But heck! If it was anyone, it was probably kids. Adult human meant piles were too full, too chaotically stuffed with theirs and each other’s own ideas, their own obsessions, their own stupid insignificant lives. A lifetime of eating shit did that to a brain. They’d eaten their weight in their own nonsense, in this weirdly temporary “society” they’d created, in their own words and views that became like an almighty religion to them. Meanwhile the real solid world, the reality they really lived in was shielded away by a mess of built up lies, comforts, ideologies and stupidity of their own making. 

Kids though? Kids were pretty smart. Clean slates. They actually _saw_ the world, instead of glossing it over, convincing themselves they already knew all the contents. They read the book for what it was and took steps within its frame. They _saw things._ Kids were to be reckoned with, in that way. And too, they were far more connected to their own inherent magic, again, not blatantly burying it in years of adolescent mess of stupidity. Maybe the right opportunity for him to prod a little here, if the kid held this unconscious form.

“What-- _who_ \-- _just what_ are you!?” His tiny soon to be pupil demanded in a splutter, keeping himself faced to Bill and instinctively sidestepping to keep him in his line of sight, seeming prepared to use the earlier adrenaline of bullies to act if it was needed to fight or fight. He seemed to still be studying Bill, rather than taking off screaming though. Curiosity. Insight. A bit of him that screamed beyond those eyes, ‘ _holy crap, a real monster!?’_ With the horror of that thought, the overwhelming idea of how fascinating it was. How _new_. Heh, kids, he could tell ya, they could be pretty great. 

“You’re greatest buddy, pal!” He announced freely, “Aw come on, don’t look at me like that,” He insisted, a grin in his voice as he tipped his hat. “Bill Cipher’s the name! At your dumbie’s little acquaintance. But then I’m sure you already know that kiddo, soooomewhere in that little gut of yours, don’t you! You’re just a cog, a single part of this kid’s inner mind after all.” He flipped his cane, spinning it in consideration. “Heck! After all, you humans have so many tiny working pieces, so many insignificant _yous_ built all up inside of your whole being, wanting to give a voice, trapped in the inner workings of the mind. Here I’m just a passenger, a guy along for the ride…” He paused, “BUT! Well. Enough about ME, why don’t we talk about _YOU!_ ” He insisted, flipping the cane over and bringing it to point, blatantly, at the kid’s birthmark, which glowed for a moment in a light blue flame. Boy, even in memory it reacted to his touch. This was going to be fantastic. “Sure got a nifty little mark there don’tchya, Pine Cone?” 

The kid looked from his cane, startled, back to Bill. His eyes clear, easy to read, and so yet untainted with corruption, stress, paranoia and future workings of constant anxiety. They were more level, more...open. Boy did he love it. All the better to corrupt! Man, if he could’ve gotten this kid _at this age_ , the things he could’ve built into those eyes. The things he could’ve exploited and taught. The universes developed. You wouldn’t believe it! He’d make a monster out of him yet.

 _‘Eh, better late than never,’_ He thought in a mental shrug, reassuring himself.

“It...yeah, so what?” The kid brought his hands over it, as if to brush nonexistent bangs to cover it. He reached down, snatching up his “lucky hat” (hah, hilarious) with that little star imprinted over it from the ground, shoving it over his head in an attempt to conceal it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_ now, pal!” Bill admonished, with a lift of his finger in a glow of blue, psychically lifting the hat to pop back off into the air. “No need to be _bashful_. I’ll tell ya what, you have any idea what that marking means, kiddo?”

Dipper snatched at the hat as it floated upwards, looking a mix of defiant and disbelieving.

“What? I...it’s just a dumb mark. I’ve had it forever.” He tried to put in, still distracted by trying to nab his hat back away, eyes returning to Bill’s single one.

He laughed. A hearty one and one that was meant to disarm. To instill some sense of ease in the other, some lack of fear or apprehension. He wasn’t a bad triangle demon, he swears it! He’s just a little Tinkerbell of joy and humor. Hahah, _right._

“Hoooo boy, do _you_ have it wrong! Come on Pine Tree, _really_ ? You gotta be smarter than this! Who in the cosmos has a _birthmark_ identical to a _galaxy system?_ Pleeeaase! I bet you even have the exact measurements of distance, when taken to scope of your tiny meatsack body.” He insisted, raising his finger to keep the hat _just_ out of reach from those snatching paws. “Can’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind before!”

Finally he lowered it just enough for the kid to grab at it, stuffing it back onto his head. He looked at the other, wary and uncertain and far too guarded.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess, when I was younger, but...it’s just in...games and whatever. You know?” 

Hell. If only the little punk _did know_.

He waved a hand dismissively. “Games, sure, yeah, okay! But come on, kid.” He weedled, leaning in closer, “You ever have weird things happen to you. Strange...events. Dreams. Happenstance you couldn’t _quite explain?_ ” He pressed. Maybe this would get him closer to unearthing the fleshsack’s real potential. To finding his buried treasure. The tiny little idiot in front of him just _might_ just be a piece of the map to get there.

Kid Pine Tree looked to the side. He could see that the gears were turning in that little head of his. And the little shrimp relaxed in a distracted moment, a second of weakness, seeming to hit a memory a frown lingering, going deep. To Bill’s delight, a door slammed open just outside. He glanced back, even as the kid spoke up. “Well...I mean. I guess? But I don’t...really think…I mean it probably wasn’t even...” He seemed conflicted, torn on himself. Something he wanted to remember, but _perhaps_ couldn’t quite face. Or believe had been real. And even as he hesitated, probably not wanting to touch on or delve into it…

Oh, well, it was far too late, sapling. The demon was already floating to the film separating the memory to the mindscape, peering out at the other door in piqued curiosity. The kid looked up in a snap. “Hey, wait.” He said suddenly. Bill glanced back, pausing. The kid seemed nervous, guarded. “It...it wasn’t what it looked like…” He began, voice tense. “I mean, it wasn’t supposed to…”

“I’m sure it’s fiiiine, kid! We all make mistakes, whatever it was!” He assured him, all too cheerfully, slipping through the memory to get a better look at the open door. He floated to it, peering in. His little memory-kid followed after him, signaling a more conscious piece taking into the little snotty rugrat. Good. He wouldn’t have to go back and get him later to prod for more questions. Now that they were introduced, gaining his favor would just get _easier from there_. Well. Unless real Pine Tree started to get wise to it.

The memory itself was...dark. Cloudy grey skies. The distinct sound of school children in the faded distance. The patter of splashing footsteps. As he wandered right into the door, he took stock of the surroundings, peering into the heavy fog. “Huh, liking the looks of this already!” He exclaimed, and there was the kid, shirking in uneasily behind him. He looked oddly grim, expression somber as he hung back slightly. Even _more_ promising!

“Mabel?? Maaabbeell, come on! We’re going to get in so much trouble!” Bill floated off toward the voice, cutting through the heavy fog. He could make parents off on the sidewalk, taking hold of their little rugrats by the hands, a small filtered stream of colored raincoats breaking through the heavy, dismal grey.

Up ahead was a tiny figure. Maybe five or six, a couple inches shorter and face more rounded than the kid he’d just been chatting up. This memory Dipper didn’t seem to notice him, eyes casting studiously, with a scrunched face of determination, through the sea of splashing tiny-humans. “Maabbbeell, aw come on.” He mumbled the last part under his breath, bringing a hand to tip at his same “lucky hat.” Boy, did the kid ever _not_ have some kind of raggedy cap? He splashed off into the rain, following the sidewalk from the schoolyard. Bill shadowed him close by, humming a cheery tune, something along the lines of _‘That’s Life’,_ under his breath. So far, so good. 

And as the tiny dolt made his way around the edge of the forest, he continued calling out. “ _Maaabel!_ Hey! Come _on_ !!” No adults seemed to notice the smelly, dirty little rascal scampering off, but then again kids were sneaky like that. They could slip past anyone in the span of a second’s glance. Little rockets full of energy. They weren’t anything like the boring humans of age that felt trapped, constrained by rules and expected norms. They weren’t bound by mortal societal constraints or “proper” anxiety inducing ideas of the weak. Their chains hadn’t yet been formed, their cufflinks polished, shoes tied in place to work the wage. To slave for nothing, to watch it waste away, laying on their dying beds grasping to _him_ for another chance. To fix the regret. To reach for lost time. Energy once so abundant simply withered away. They hadn’t quite been _broken in yet_. To them the world was just a giant playground, a yawning stretch of freedom that demanded to be explored and owned by their tiny ravaging feet and shrill laughs.

Little devils, the lot of them. But admirable little devils. 

The kid he was trailing after in question trekked on through the woods, following a set of muddy boot prints and grasping at the sleeve of a raincoat in an uncionscious movement, distracted and looking more and more irritated. “Maaan! I can’t _believe_ her. I told her we were leaving in ten minutes...we’ll miss my D, D and D game in the library at this rate! UGH! This is _so like her_ . Why does she always have to be _so_ **_selfish_ **!? I mean, all of the time!?” He muttered, clearly irate, throwing his stubby little noodle arms into the air quite animatedly. He kind of had a point though. Seemed even when they were little, Shooting Star had a knack for obliviously keeping everything at the center of her attention.

The more solid independent Pine Tree from the other memory, the one with a bit more awareness, seemed to hover at his side now, looking entirely torn at the scene. He caught the expression of deep guilt, a kind only someone still so new to the world could capture into so deeply and profoundly, staring away in burning shame and frustration. 

He actually liked that expression. It took a good look good on the kid, that bit of deeply burning anger and regret. Those kinds of looks propelled men into life down the line, chasing them into wars, to revenge, to struggle, out into scientific breakthroughs or into spending a lifetime and a half trying to rip their twin brothers from other realities. It was the tiniest spark that eventually toppled mountains. The kind of spark he thrived off of, and was to his specialty in twisting eventually to his favor. The Pines family seemed to hold a lot of those, hilariously enough.

He glanced back as the kid wove deeper, yelling out for his sister. “Seriously?” He asked the open wood, kicking at some mud. “Whatever, maybe...you know, maybe for once I _won’t_ go playing her dumb games. Maybe see how she likes it, when for once her idiot brother doesn’t go and...and take care of everything. Sheesh. See what mom and dad says. It’s not like I should have to always do this!” He sniffed, seeming to talk now to the open spaces of the trees for consultation. “See how she likes it if I’m not there.” And in a huff, he turned and stomped off. 

But there was something. Just at the distance. He heard it. Just an inkling, a subtle slight. The kid may not have consciously caught it, but _Bill did_. He squinted into the mass of fog, into a glimmer just outside the reach of the kid’s consciousness, a string of momentarily light. A panicked sound at the edges of their reach. It then faded though, as the scrawny little munchkin kicked his way along the wooded path, forcing him to turn and follow. 

_Intereeessting_. 

He barely followed as the kid started backward, pausing at the playground, back to the theater of people and security and transparent, boring normality. 

He observed as different tiny meatsack’s parents came to pick them up, his kid’s stubborn figure at the road. A minivan pulled up. The other Dipper beside him gripped at at his own sleeve, glancing away in a dull, guilt ridden apprehension. And younger memory Dipper climbed in, and he vaguely heard the voice of his dad question about Mabel.

“Mason, you can’t just leave your sister out there in the rain.” There was some admonishing, to which the kid protested, exasperated.

“Dad, seriously...come on. She’s _always_ doing this! She knows how important Tuesdays are to me!” It must’ve been kind of startling to see the kid protest and give some complaint over Mabel, because the father of the twerp simply let him remain in the van while he went to scour the playground. Even now it was odd for Bill to view any sort of conflict where the kid wasn’t being a total pushover to his sister’s whims. Kinda made sense if this played out how he was thinking it would.

He floated to the back of the car, peering in. And they waited, the three of them, just like that. In the cold. In the dank. In the grey. It was a lucky thing Bill was such a fairly patient guy, because boy was it a while. He studied the anxiety growing in the kid as he sat in the car, the frustration, the irritation. He looked absolutely crest fallen as the time seemed to slip on by. Probably missing that sooo important nerd game by now. What a dork. Even as a tiny squirt. Eventually, enough time turned to the point where the kid went from angry, sulky and resentful...to a touch worried. He glanced out the tinted windows, pressing himself against them to look out into the playground. His frown was less furrowed and irate and started to soften into something more anxious.

Bill could practically read his thoughts. Easy as pie at _this_ point! Something about _‘ooooh Shooting Star, I hooope you’re okay!’_ or some other dumb nonsense. No doubt, really. Kid was an open book. Even these days. He continued to observe the dumb munchkin, all the way until dusk slowly began to creep against the sky. His father wasn’t back yet. And more than that, police lights started pulling out in the distance, settling by the school. Dipper’s tiny form leaned forward, taking his seatbelt off swiftly and sliding open the large door. He shuffled out, feet hitting the sidewalk, concern now clear and tense on his face as he scurried over to the red and blue flashing lights. His dad was there, huddled with teachers, talking in a loud and upset voice. Their figures cast in the shade of the mist and highlighted fog. The kid frowned, the worry shooting deep, the panic seeming to hedge as he watched.

“Oh no.” He breathed out in a whisper. “Oh no, oh no, oh _no_ ,” He gripped at his face, fingers pressed against skin, looking on the edge of panic and disbelief. “This-this can’t be happening.” The kid whirled toward the woods, and without another moment to spare, sprung off in its direction, a panicked hitch of breath following him as he practically stumbled in his sprint towards all the dark and ominous. Bill followed effortlessly, watching the kid stumble in his haste, sliding against the mud, dirtying his raincoat and panting desperate and deep. _“MABEL!”_ His voice broke out, hitching in a desperate panic. “MABEL! MABEL!!” He cried, racing through the dark wood. He sloshed into the ever expansive dark, shadows casting in deeper against the forming browns and blacks, the eerie lack of greens in the much colder Autumn day. It was just muds and roots and greys as far as the eye could see.

He followed, floating after the kid, catching bits and pieces of his thoughts now. They were so loud, so prominent, that even in the form of a memory, he caught onto them with an ease; stringing through each and every one as they splayed, strewn out against the cold, rainy air, painting the trees and the landscape in fear.

 _‘Oh no, oh man, oh no, no, no, this_ **_can’t be happening!_ ** _Mabel can’t be-she can’t be--oh man, she_ **_has to_ ** _be alright--!’_ Tears stung at the kid’s eyes, bright and in that defiance, the anger, the desperation, snot running freely from his nose. _‘Please, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think, WHY, why did I have to be so--why did I have to be so,_ **_so_ ** _stupid, so selfish, so dumb--!’_ He could practically feel the wrench of regret dig, tearing into the little boy’s tiny body. And he yelled again, the voice ripping through the clearing, “MABEL! _MABEL_ , COME ON! I’M-I’M SORRY! MABEL, PLEASE! ANSWER ME!” He yelled. _‘What power twins! What best friends! That’s...I’M SUCH AN_ **_IDIOT--_ ** _”_

And stumbling against an exposed root, he gasped, tumbling suddenly into a spinning roll against the slosh of mud and thick, cold water, every thought and anxiety in him suddenly silenced by the tumble, gravity pulling and cascading the tiny body down the side of a large ditch that dropped far below. A grumbling crash of thunder gave way in the distance. The warnings of a real storm. In an utter heap, the kid’s mud splattered face peered up, pale and sweaty and breathing harsh and dazed, to peer out at the empty, dull, dead forest. “Please…” He whispered weakly, “I’ll do anything. _Please_ be okay _._ ” He grimaced and climbed, stumbling haphazardly to his feet, gripping at an injured arm, hat seemingly lost from him entirely before sloshing off, now deeper into the woods. A few pine trees loomed ahead and parted, allowing him further access to a clearing out ahead. They seemed somehow ominous. Foreboding. Foreshadowing what was to come.

And then, there it was. Finally, _finally_ , there it was. It was that inkling Bill had caught onto earlier. That little something. That little _hint_...the little treat of furiouscious supernatural.

A great big nest, a large ringed circle spreading out in the clearing like a frozen ripple from a pond, with a giant _thing_ huddled against the mud. A monster. A growling of furs and fangs and at least twenty red eyes focused in a sheer lumpy mass of muscle and flesh, gazing directly onto Pine Tree’s tiny form. He had to be a dozen times larger than the kid, with fangs jutting sharp not just from a gaping, open mouth, but down the length of his chin and even where a chest might be, a slight tear indicating a gap that connected to the mouth, pulling away in a disfigured form.

It was Bill’s turn to look on, impressed.

“Huuuuh. Some kinda...demon dog.” He commented curiously, glancing down to the other kid that had trailed after him, to who just gripped his fists to the side, not meeting Bill’s eye. These particular beasts were only attracted to...well, ‘innocence,’ but more importantly…

Magic. Heavy magic at that.

At least, if this _was_ the beast he was thinking of. Bill might be one hell of a bastion of knowledge, but the amount of supernatural creatures and monsters in the multiverse were also frankly, practically endless! But it made sense.

He leaned back in mid air, crossing his legs, flipping his cane curiously in a spin. What was Pine Tree going to do here? He couldn’t help but be curious.

Currently, the tiny dumb kid before them was frozen solid, pale as a ghost, a tinge of yellow creeping deeply to steal at his color. It sure was a sight against all that dismal grey and black and brown. He seemed shocked into death itself, studying the beast with a detached, denial racking expression, eyes wide as saucer plates. The beast chortled, somewhere between a hiss and a deep growl. It was hard to tell maybe to humans, but Bill could easily read the amusement within the bloodlust.

“Ursa….” It was almost impossible to tell the mess of growl and snarling was a word at all, the tear in its chest opening on the sides to reveal a deeper chasm of mouth, fangs jutting like a shark’s, in layers of horrible, shining white. “ _URSA…_ ” It crowed louder, the depth of the tone sounding like heavy gravel, a warbled mess of deep tones howling into it. A spill of hissing laughter, as if coming from multiple beings at once, then crawled out from the thing, stinging onto the air, running through the kid’s whole body like ice. 

“H...holy…” The kid began, barely a breath, grounded and rooted to the spot.

Boy, how had the dumb sap even survived this?

Even this was too interesting for his earlier popcorn. He leaned in, hand against where his chin may have been if he had one, eager for the show to carry on; taking in every inch.

“ **_URRSSAAA--_ **” And in that rumbling, furious roar, the monster charged in a walloping of claws and deeply matted, filthy fur. It must’ve jolted something to life in Pine Tree, because he flat out took off, body moving like a rabbit to flash against the scenery. He was screaming, the same kind of scream he recalled in great amusement to seeing (and occasionally causing) among his time in Gravity Falls, bounding over roots and the ground in such a speed it was as if it were not even there. But there was something Bill saw. Something that, too, Dipper’s eyes caught on. And the tiny tadpole swerved then, sharp and sudden, causing the beast ripping after him to falter, attempt to maneuver in the same way, and, with his weight playing against him, crashing into a clearing of trees that groaned and whined under his weight, snapping to sharp pieces.

Dipper was sprinting now...back the way he’d come. Back toward that muddy pit the beast had been curled up in wait at.

There was a small lump huddled there, the flash of pink now seemingly obvious against all the dull, darker colors of the wood, earlier obscured by the monster’s mass. And beneath that pink little raincoat was a very pale, very unconscious little girl, pools of brown hair spilling to frame her fragile looking form. In that moment, he could see the sudden switch, the shift in the boy from even over here. One moment it was all panic and instinctual, animalistic terror, and in a single flip, a single instance, something changed. Determination, grounding, all that fierce and rampant adrenaline switching up to fuel the fierce certainty that riddled the kid’s entire core. He leapt over rocks and branches, landing in a panting heap beside his tiny twin sister, demeanor entirely different now.

“Mabel…” He whispered, falling beside her, trying to tilt her head. The girl didn’t respond.

And then he saw it.

Beautiful, and in _all_ it’s fantastic chaotic glory.

 _Anger_.

Oh, _anger._ _Real_ anger.

Anger brought on by the sheer desperation, the adrenaline, the genuine life and death shock that had riveted the boy’s being. Anger that teemed, beautifully in a cold, defiant rage, turning his eyes back to the creature that had hurt his kid sister, the creature that had collected itself and was now picking up speed again. Only. Those kid’s eyes were now entirely white. And glowing. And beyond that, clearly against the kid’s forehead, and to Bill’s great and ecstatic joy, was that _birthmark_. Glowing a very light, vibrant blue, exploding to life in an electric energy, reflecting into open the clearing of darks and greys.

The kid let out a violent yell, more of a roar, suddenly seeming otherworldly. And boy, he’d thought the hell dog had been scary!

Nope, in an instant the kid’s white pale hand reached out and with it, an electric blue energy pooling there, the kid’s hair ruffling as if by some invisible brush of wind. No words were spoken. But he saw it. That _power_ . That _rage_. That defiance. It wormed up through the kid’s arm in tangible form, collecting there, and, in another roar of utter rage, exploded from his fingertips in a burst of hot white light. Bill actually had to shield his eye for a moment at the intensity of the blast.

There was a sharp, terrified yelping that crushed through the air, the unearthly hell screams of an engulfed beast. It lasted a second. Just a single second. And as Bill lowered his hand from the bright burst, he stared, suddenly taken off guard.

Because, the beast was gone. There was no beast. And no trees. And, in some part, no ground. Just a single blast, a single sphere shape that indented into the earth and trees and world in front of where the kid stood. A gaping chasm of obliteration. And there was the kid, panting and gasping weakly, teetering on himself. His expression went from that utter, deeply fueled fury, that electric emotion, to suddenly paling, exhausted. So exhausted it seemed, he turned his slowly darkening eyes to his sister, that he stumbled, trying to reach her, only to pass out entirely, collapsing next to her form. And with it darkness swirled in all around Bill, signalling the end of the memory. It only brightened back up to the sound of yells and frantic calls. A man in a police uniform that hovered above in the spiraling blackness. Inconsequential. Because he could see, he could tell, the little punk had turned back to his boring, human self. And that the adult cavalry had arrived.

In the darkness, the faded edges of the memory, Bill turned his gaze down toward the remaining Dipper who looked pale and distant, terrified and conflicted. Bill’s eye narrowed, beaming at the shrimp.

“Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, **_well_ ** **…** ” He began in keen interest, feeling about as ravenous and pleased as a cat cornering a baby mouse. “Would ya _look at that_.”


End file.
